


Second Child, Restless Child

by SwallowsSong



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Nurses & Nursing, Original Character(s), Self-Esteem, The romance takes a while, bau, gaelic, starts in season 1, triplet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25682797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwallowsSong/pseuds/SwallowsSong
Summary: Dakota "Kit" Katherine Colghain likes her job as one of the FBI Academy Clinic's Head Nurses. As an academy graduate herself, she keeps her head down, works well with others, and genuinely enjoys her quiet life. She enjoys it more when she doesn't have to deal with any of the stiffs upstairs.When she's given the chance to pilot a new program, a new position, within the bureau she isn't sure what to think. She genuinely enjoys her quiet life. Splitting her time between the clinic and a new team doesn't seem like something she's ready for. Besides, Ari is better for the job.When she takes it anyway, she has no idea what, and who, is in store for her.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74





	1. Second Child

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever posted my work. If you've decided to come on this journey with me - thanks a bunch. Any comments/questions/critiques are more than appreciated :) The title of this work comes from the song Second Child, Restless Child by the Oh Hellos. Their song is the basis of this story, as it's been on a repeat loop anytime I'm working! Thanks!

She shook out her hands as she stared through the glass double-door in front of her. 

_I can do this_ . She said to herself over and over. _They wouldn’t have sent me upstairs for no reason._

Regardless, that’s exactly where she stood for seemingly no reason. She’d stepped off the elevator and taken a maximum of four steps before she’d planted on the spot. A few people had walked around her in the three minutes she had been standing there, trying to get a grip.

_Ari and Monty are going to give me hell when they find out I spent my afternoon talking to some stiff about something hush-hush._

The nurses in the FBI Academy Clinic, lovingly placed on the very bottom floor of the building, really disliked going upstairs. The “stiffs” more often than not had a low level of respect for the agents, yes _agents_ , that worked to keep the new recruits in tip top shape. She liked her job, so she didn’t care what they thought, but she could already see Ari’s raised eyebrow, and hear Monty’s loud groan. 

It was going to be a long night in their apartment before Ari went to work his night shift.

Before she could waste anymore time, she wiped clammy palms against her navy blue scrubs and pushed the door open. It was the middle of the day, just after her lunch break, but there was still a level of activity happening inside the bullpen. This activity just happened to stop as soon as the intruder started to move across the carpet, towards the stairs that led up to closed offices with open blinds. This was her destination, and she moved according

The office she was looking for allegedly belonged to a Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. He was the Unit Chief for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, or the beloved BAU. He was also rumored to be no-nonsense and incredibly stern. An impeccable combination. 

Eyes darted to her and murmurs started, low enough that she couldn’t hear what was said, but loud enough that she could tell they were saying _something_. If her goal was invisibility, she had failed miserably. 

A shaking hand went to tug at the short sleeve of her scrubs, the word “Head” embroidered like some sort of brand calling out her supervisory position.

 _Are they looking at me, or the scrubs?_ She wondered, though she supposed that if she saw a nurse that far up in the building, she would stare, too.

Her hand moved to pull at her braid, and then the other, antsy fingers pulling gently, dark green nails moving against deep red hair. Suspicion hung in the air, as well as curiosity. She breathed it in and let the air out slowly, trying to keep it away from her own anxiety. She could feel them, sure, but she didn’t have to take them in. She wasn’t going to let herself.

She knocked on the office door and had three seconds to take a breath before it was opened. Standing there was a stern looking man in a crisp suit, and she could hear Monty’s shrill laughter in the back of her mind. She didn’t let it show on her face how surprised she was at how tall this man was, or by the fact that his stern demeanor was offset by his kind eyes. 

“Special Agent Dakota Colghain,” he said simply, glancing at her badge to confirm himself instead of posing it as a question.

She had to stop herself from physically cringing at his pronunciation of her last name. While she was impressed he’d gotten as far as ‘Collin,’ she wished he’d just have asked her to say it. In Gaelic there was the slight of the ‘h’ sound and a much more open vowel, at least the way her father had always taught them to say it as small children. She wasn’t going to correct him. 

She tended not to correct anyone, much less the stiffs she’d met.

“Yes, sir,” Dakota said evenly, articulation clear.

“Come in.”

It wasn’t a question. Dakota walked into the office and sat as she was directed.

Agent Hotchner sat at his desk, staring at her for a moment before opening a file.

“You’ve read the proposal?”

_What?_

“No, sir,” She said quietly, “I was told to come here after my lunch break. I assumed that someone in your unit requires medical attention that would keep them from coming downstairs, but Section Chief Ramos told me to report directly to you.”

Hotchner looked confused by that, but only for a moment. He didn’t allow it to show on his face, but that didn’t mean Dakota was unaware of it. He was nervous, which she noted as he spoke next, folding his hands on top of his desk.

“The bureau is considering a new in-unit position. Over the last twelve months, there has been an influx of negative reviews across the board from local law enforcement. There have also been an increase of injuries during takedown operations in the field.”

He let that sit for a moment before continuing. Dakota assumed it was to gauge her, but she didn’t give any indication she was going to speak.

“They would like each unit to have a field certified, academy graduated nurse to round the team and create rapport with the local law enforcement, victims, and families. The director believes that the training nurses receive in bedside manner could be an asset in that area. They would also be required to ensure team health and wellness both in and out of the field. The BAU has been chosen to pilot the program, and you have been selected to join us.”

Dakota stared at him for a moment, the last sentence having all but knocked the wind out of her. She was sure he could feel her surprise and confusion, as it was written all over her face. It read like an open book, and she’d never wished she could shut it off as much as she did in that moment.

“I’m being transferred?” She asked finally, voice higher than she would ever like it, even squeaking at the end like a dog toy.

Hotchner’s eyebrows pulled together, showing that this was very obviously not how he anticipated this conversation going. He stared at her like that for a moment before picking up a file on his desk. 

His eyes glanced to it for a moment, and while Dakota was glad to have his eyes off of her for a moment, it did nothing to quell the panic she was suddenly feeling. They were going to move her out of the clinic. She wouldn’t be sharing her responsibilities with Ari and Monty anymore. She wasn’t going to be one of the Heads anymore. 

“You’re twenty five?” 

Dakota blinked for a moment, looking up from her hands, which were pulling at each other in her lap. He hadn’t answered her, and he’d changed the subject.

Hotchner was looking back at her, and a hot blush was crawling across her face.

“Yes, sir,” she managed, though her voice was timid and confused.

“And, you’re the day shift head nurse?”

He sounded skeptical. He _felt_ skeptical.

“Yes, sir.”

He flipped through the file, her file she realized, a little more before he looked back to her once again.

“You’ve been here nearly three years.”

Not a question.

“Two and a half, sir. I turned twenty three while I was in the academy.”

Dakota never corrected, but this man was a profiler, and if what she had heard about them was true, she shouldn’t lie or take credit for more time than she was due. She’d heard talk that it was impossible to lie to a profiler, because they always knew, and they always found out the truth. If it was just hearsay, she didn’t want to find out.

“It says here that you are an empath,” he said next, moving the conversation along in a direction Dakota wasn’t quite tracking. If she was being transferred, it was by someone higher up than Agent Hotchner. Neither of them would have a choice, so why did it feel like he was interviewing her?

“That’s correct.”

“You feel more empathy than the average person?”

“No,” she said so quickly that she found herself having to backtrack as to not sound rude. “Sorry, no, sir. I feel empathy more… effectively. I feel the emotions other people are experiencing as my own, and I feel my own emotions to a heightened intensity.” 

She struggled for the words to wrap up her explanation, but all she could come up with was, “I have extra mirror neurons, and they’re hyperactive.”

He stared for a moment before looking through the file some more. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind, and he looked at her again before he said, “Is it related to your Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder?” 

Dakota’s eyes snapped up to meet his as her blush desperately crawled down her neck and up to her ears. For a moment, she couldn’t have found her voice if she wanted to. Was he being patronizing? She couldn’t feel any sense of that. He didn’t feel annoyed or judgmental either. When it came up, that’s what most people felt. His stoic curiosity confused her.

“Possibly,” was all she said. There wasn’t concrete evidence of it, and she wasn’t going to talk about her ADHD with a stranger. Especially a stiff like Agent Hotchner. 

She wanted to go back to the clinic. Desperately. She wanted to get away from this man and his kind eyes and his less kind questions. 

She repeated her question.

“SSA Hotchner, am I being transferred?”

It was a moment before he spoke again, taking time to consider her. When he did speak, it was almost as if he were sighing.

“Part time,” he said. He pulled a piece of paper out of the file he was holding and slid it across the desk at her. “You currently work five, eight hour shifts a week. Is that correct?”

Dakota nodded without hesitation.

“Yes, sir.”

“You would be working six. Three in clinic, and three here as a part of my team. I should mention you’ll receive a raise if you accept, and you’ll require a new badge.”

It was a moment before Dakota looked down at the contract in front of her. _Contract._ A contract that would mean everything would change. She would be working with stiffs.

_Stiffs, dear God. Monty and Ari will never let this one go._

When she looked up next, her voice held much more distrust than she intended. She found the words from her mouth to be, “If? As if I have a choice?” instead of, “Do I have the choice?” The latter would have sounded better, in hindsight. 

Judging by the way Agent Hotchner’s eyes widened the littlest bit, he was thinking the same thing.

“Of course,” he deadpanned after a very pregnant pause. “If you decide that you don’t want the position, they’ll find someone else to take it. However as you were the one they selected, you are obviously the best choice.”

_Me? The best choice?_

She couldn’t believe that. Ari was the best choice. Ari was always the best choice. He was the best of them, anyway, and he always had been. Monty was more open and less clinical. Less guarded at first. While Dakota was definitely friendlier in the long run, she tended to shield herself. To try to keep objective, especially when emotions got involved. It made her a great nurse, and a great friend, but not always a great first impression. Maybe not even a great second impression.

Not to mention she was unsure of herself. She continued to fidget with her hands, not allowing herself to pull at her hair in the presence of this very stern man with very kind eyes. Ari didn’t fidget. He didn’t have ADHD. He wasn’t an empath. She had no idea why anyone would put the responsibility of piloting a program on her very shaky shoulders. 

Sure, she was very highly qualified. She and the others had been fast tracked much earlier than was customary. but she was young and nervous to be even sitting here on the sixth floor. Important people sat on the sixth floor. 

“Why me?”

There was a moment where it looked as if Agent Hotchner didn’t understand her question. His silence was thick, as if he was trying to come up with an answer he didn’t have.

“I’m not sure,” he said simply. “You’ve impressed someone in charge of this decision, and you are the correct choice for this pilot.”

She signed the contract. Agent Hotchner explained the wording, disclosing that he’d been a prosecutor for many years before he’d moved to the BAU. Dakota could tell that he wasn’t lying, and that he genuinely had her best interests at heart as he walked her through the basic idea that her hours would change, and her obligations would be new. 

“We’ll go through all of that on Monday morning. Section Chief Ramos assured he would send all official documentation once you had decided to accept the position. This is… an experiment of sorts. It isn’t going to be widespread information until we’ve worked through it, trial and error. I’m sure you understand.”

She nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek before saying, “Yes, I do.”

“Great. I was assured that they didn’t need you back downstairs, so if you’d like to meet the team now, it might make this transition easier for everyone,” he said, standing up from his desk and slipping the contract she had signed back into the folder. Her folder. The one that told him about her ADHD and her Empathic diagnosis and probably about the Vyvanse she was on. It probably laid out all of her fallacies for him to see.

Dakota stood up to follow him, allowing herself to have one moment to tug at her braids anxiously while he had his back turned. Everything was changing so rapidly it was as if she had no control, but also, that she had all of the control. 

It dawned on her as she followed him, her scrubs still horribly out of place, into a conference room with a round table and seven chairs, that she would be piloting a program. There were no expectations and nothing to live up to. No older siblings who had done it before. No Monty or Ari who had done it better, or faster, or with more attitude and sloppier mistakes. There was nothing to lose and everything to prove. There was almost no way to fail. 

Her hand continued to twist around her braid, tugging gently at the bottom as she thought through what this new position, this new _job_ would mean. Agent Hotchner had left, she assumed to get the rest of the team, and she took a moment to look around. There was a screen mounted on the wall, and a whiteboard by the door. There were windows, and even a couch on the wall near her. They spent time there, she noticed. 

She would be spending time there, too, probably. Everything about every other workday was about to change, and she had no idea how. No idea what her actual role was going to be. 

_Why did I agree to this? I have no idea what my expectations are. Also, what if they hate me? What if they think I’m guarded, or weak, or stupid? These are profilers, and I’m a nurse. It doesn’t matter how smart I actually am if they perceive me to be an idiot before they can even_ -

“Special Agent Colghain?”

Dakota shook her head quickly, dropping her braid and folding her hands in front of her. She was still standing near the couch, and Agent Hotchner was being followed by a group of people. He had an eyebrow raised, and gestured to the chair closest to her.

“I asked if you wanted to sit?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” she said quickly. She pulled out the chair and took a seat, watching as everyone else did the same. The only one left standing was Agent Hotchner, but he was also the only one not staring at her as if she was an intruder in their home.

Suspicion. Confusion. Mistrust. Dakota tried to breathe calm into her lungs and not let them change the way she felt. At least Agent Hotchner seemed comfortable now, though she didn’t know if that made her feel better. Had she made him uncomfortable before? She couldn’t be sure. It was all so new.

“Team,” Agent Hotchner started, eyes looking at everyone except Dakota, “This is Special Agent Dakota Colghain. She is one of the Head Nurses at the Academy Clinic.” 

Silence followed his statement, but he didn’t seem perturbed. He continued with ease, his eyes never changing from kind. “The BAU had been selected to pilot a new program for the bureau. The intention is for every unit to be given a nurse, trained in the academy and with experience both in the field, and in victim and family support.”

“Isn’t that what JJ does?” said a woman with dark hair and striking eyes. She was slender, with sharp cheekbones and a mistrustful look directed towards Dakota. 

The blonde next to her spoke quietly, her voice much more kind. “I’m the communications liaison, Elle. My job is a lot more than victim support.”

“As is Agent Colghain’s. She will also be responsible for in-unit health and wellness, as well as an in-field medic as needed. More details will be given to us now that the position has been accepted.”

“Wait, accepted as in, a member of the team?” asked a muscular man that was across the table from Dakota. He was curious, but confused. She noted that as he kept going. “We just got Elle. Why are we the ones?”

“This is Director ordered, Morgan.”

Dakota could feel Agent Hotchner become uncomfortable again, and he shared a look with the older man across the room. 

The older man had stood from and was now standing behind his chair, holding onto the back like it was supporting him. His eyes were skeptical, but he didn’t seem unkind. There was no sense of hostility, which wasn’t the case with Morgan.

“Hotch-”

“As I said before, this is Special Agent Dakota Colghain. She is one of the Head Nurses at the Academy Clinic, and she is the newest addition to the team. She’ll be with us Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays unless needed otherwise.”

He gestured at each person now, addressing them by name as he went around the circle of her new team members.

“These are Special Agents Jennifer Jareau, Elle Greenaway, Dr. Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, and Jason Gideon.”

The blonde was the first to stick out her hand, giving a kind smile that was quickly returned. Usually, Dakota would avoid shaking hands. In the clinic, everything was pathogens and disinfectant. That was clearly not the case here, so she took the other girl's hand.

“You can call me JJ, everyone does.”

“The other nurses call me Kit,” Dakota said in return, “It makes things easier.”

She didn’t elaborate, but a quiet voice piped in from the closest seat to the door.

“Like, a medical kit?”

It was the man Agent Hotchner had called “Dr. Spencer Reid” that spoke, though Kit was still taken aback. He couldn’t have been older than she was, there was no way, and he was way too young to be a doctor of anything. She wondered if he was even old enough to work for the FBI in the first place.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “though, that’s funny. I’ll have to use that one.”

“Kit isn’t a nickname for Dakota,” he said, his brow furrowing together. “Common nicknames for Dakota are Kody and Kota.”

Kit gave a small smile. She was used to this conversation, especially because Ari and Monty called her Kody around all the other nurses without hesitation.

“My middle name is Katherine.”

“But-”

“Reid, leave it. People can be called whatever they want,” the girl with dark hair, Elle Greenaway, said with a laugh. She turned to Kit and gave a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Elle. Don’t mind him, you get used to it.”

Kit shook her head quickly, making sure to smile at both Elle and Reid.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

When Kit looked around a bit more she was met with the eyes of Derek Morgan. A flash of recognition hit her as she really saw his face. She’d seen him before, but he didn’t seem to recognize her. That was fine, she decided, because it meant there was equal ground. 

He nodded at her, and she nodded back, though she could tell he was less than happy about her appearance in the conference room. He was the most suspicious, and probably the least likely to think she deserved a place at their table. She would have to watch that to see how it developed.

The last person to speak to her was Jason Gideon. It was a moment before he spoke, but when he did it was even and low, his eyes darting to Reid before he started.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kit. Welcome.”

There was an awkward moment of silence before Agent Hotchner was dismissing them, everyone leaving the room in a flurry of movement until it was just Kit and Agent Hotchner again. Kit looked up at him and gave a small smile.

“Your team is nice,” she said quietly. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say, but that felt appropriate. It wasn’t a lie, either. Though Morgan seemed closed off and Elle seemed tense, JJ and Reid seemed at least marginally open to her. Gideon she couldn’t read, but she had time. Three days a week.

Agent Hotchner nodded, looking out the window at his team getting back to their desks before saying, “They are. You’ll get to know them, but you should know that this team is a family. They can seem closed off, but they’ll adapt. And adopt.”

“I understand, Agent Hotchner.”

“Please,” he said, “everyone calls me Hotch. Now, I can point your desk out to you, but I have case files to get back to. You can go back to the clinic now, if you’d like. There’s about two hours left on your shift.”

Kit nodded quickly, standing to follow him, hands playing with the bottom seam of her shirt. She followed, quite like a lost duckling as he led her to the bullpen and nodded towards an open desk next to Reid and across from Morgan.

“That’ll be you. If you have any questions before you go, Reid can answer them. We’ll see you at eight o’clock Monday morning.”

Kit nodded, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt when she said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, and goodnight.”

Hotch gave her one last nod before heading back to his office. 

Kit was now standing in the bullpen, closest to Reid’s desk, and feeling like a lost puppy. She should go down to the clinic while she still had some time. Sure, Monty had come in to cover for her, but they were all hands on deck before she left and she was sure she could be helpful. She had resolved to do just that, hand gently tugging one braid before she heard Elle’s voice from her right.

“Excited?”

Kit turned quickly, shoving her hands in her pockets. The last thing she wanted was for them to think she was neurotic.

“Me?” she said, like an idiot. The blush that hit her cheeks must have shown she thought so, because Elle offered her a tight smile.

“No, Reid.”

“What?” asked the younger man, looking up with wide eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, like he was exposed.

Elle laughed quietly and shook her head. “I was giving Colghain a hard time. Yes, you. Excited to be, what is it, piloting?”

Kit bit the inside of her cheek before giving her own tight smile. Nerves caused her hands to pull from her pocket, playing again at the bottom of her shirt.

“Confused, more like, but hopeful. I had no idea this was going to be my day when I walked into the clinic this morning,” she answered truthfully. Profilers liked the truth, and she wasn’t going to lie to a room full of them. She liked the truth as well, so she hoped that giving them the truth would elicit truth telling back.

“You didn’t know?” asked Reid, and now even Morgan was looking up from his paperwork.

Kit shook her head slowly, taking a small step towards them.

“No,” she said, “Section Chief Ramos told me to report to Agen- Hotch after lunch. I assumed someone up here needed medical assistance. He even called in the swing shift head, so I knew I wouldn’t be back right away. I just…” she struggled for the words, but finally shrugged. “This isn’t what I had anticipated.”

“And you said yes?” asked Elle, causing Kit to nod. There was a second question there, a ‘why’ question. Kit ignored it.

“I follow orders,” she said simply.

There didn’t seem to be much more after that, and no one else asked any questions. At least, not that they were ready to say aloud. It was a moment before Reid gestured to the desk next to his and said, “That’s yours. I heard Hotch tell you. Not that I was eavesdropping or anything, but I usually pick up on my name and I heard him say “across from Morgan,” and that’s the only desk across from Morgan so-”

“Breathe, Pretty Boy. I’m sure she got it,” Morgan interrupted, and Reid seemed to curl into himself a little more before he bit down on his bottom lip, nodding quickly. Unsure of himself. Embarrassed.

“Right.”

Kit had never had a desk to work at, not as a nurse, and not as Head Nurse, so she had no idea what she was going to do with it. She told this to Monty when she got down to the clinic. 

“It’s so desperately clinical, Mont. More clinical than down here, and this _is_ a clinic.” 

She was rubbing at her eyes, trying to starve off the stress headache that was building. Monty, however, was laughing quietly to herself.

“I still can’t believe you’re going to be working for stiffs,” she said.

Monty was wearing identical scrubs, same embroidered title across the seam of the shoulder. She had been looking at a clipboard when Kit came back down to the bottom floor, but it was long forgotten on the counter. The counter she was sitting on was not made for sitting, and a few other nurses were milling around. The clinic had slowed considerably after the morning, so their having a conversation by the nurses station wasn't as big of a deal as it could have been.

Monty's reaction had been exactly as Kit had predicted, and shook her head at the other girl.

“No, Mont, you’re still not understanding me. I’m working _with_ them. On their team. I am going to _be_ a stiff. I got _reassigned_ , not offered out.”

Monty shifted to face Kit, her jaw dropped just slightly as the realization seemed to stick. A spike of panic shot through Kit’s own chest, and she took a deep breath.

“Chill out, Monty, you’re palpable.”

“Oh, sorry, it’s just a huge piece of news. You’re… leaving the clinic?”

“No!” Kit said in what was a too loud voice for their environment. They were definitely going to get in trouble. There was a reason Kit, Ari, and Monty all worked different shifts, and it had almost nothing to do with the fact that they were all Heads. 

Kit took a breath before she said, “It’s a partial. Half time here, half there. It’s a test run of a new program and Ramos chose me.”

“Over Ari?”

“That’s what I said.”

“What unit?”

Kit sighed, rubbing at her eyes again. “The BAU”

Monty gasped, tugging out her bun and wrapping it back as she all but lost her mind as she said, “What?! The BAU?! That’s where the profilers are! They’re assholes!”

“Mont, múchadh!” Kit quipped, knowing their section chief wouldn’t take too kindly to her yelling at Monty to shut up in English for all the academy cadets to hear. “They’re… fine. It’ll be fine. I need you to tell me it’ll be fine.”

There was a quiet moment before Monty looked at her, a mirror reflection, and nodded. She put a hand gently on Kit’s arm and squeezed, giving not a smile, but a look so sure that it couldn’t help but settle Kit’s anxious heart.

“It’ll be fine. Promise, cúpla.” 

_Twin._

Kit nodded and let out a breath. If Monty’s spirit could calm, so could hers. 

“Thanks. Now, I need to borrow your slacks.”

"No scrubs?"

"Business-wear."

“Oh _no._ "

Montana and Dakota were identical. Two of three, their brother Arizona, or Ari, rounded out the Colghain triplets. All three were heads of the three different rotations at the clinic, and they tended to do ‘big things’ all together. Graduating high school early. Graduating college with degrees in nursing, scattered minors in chemistry and psychology and sociology, as quickly as possible. Working at the same hospitals. Joining the FBI Academy. 

Kit and Monty had long ago agreed that Ari was the best nurse. He was organized and clinical. Monty was a confident tornado. Kit was their feeler, always friendly, sometimes dragged into Mony’s hijinks, but normally calm. Passive. She was the only empath of the three, and Monty and Ari knew their job affected her more than it did them. Ari was born first, and Monty third; Kit was the second child. 

Kit reflected upon this as she sat on the metro, willing the stop to their apartment complex to come faster. After she got off it was still a five minute walk, and she really needed to be in a place where her emotions were entirely her own for a while. She had some things to sort out. 

A large man sat next to her, allowing her vigilance to spike, and it allowed her to consider what Agent Hotchner - Hotch - had said when he introduced her to the team. They wanted field certified nurses, which as they’d all graduated from the academy, wasn’t an issue. However, Kit knew her field assessment scores were better than her siblings, and her weapons assessments the same. Not by a large margin, especially the way Monty handled a glock. 

_I don’t want to turn into some upstairs stiff._ She thought to herself, standing and waiting for the doors to open at her stop. _They already hate me anyway. Tight smiles and passive questions don’t change the fact that I’m an outsider. An ionróir._

One of the good things that came from being one of three, but really one of two, was that Kit could often hear Monty's voice monologuing back to her. They had, in essence, the same voice. The reach wasn’t that far.

 _Maybe you surprised them,_ came Monty’s voice. Of course, it wasn’t Monty, but thinking about it that way always helped. _Maybe they feel just as uncomfortable as you do. Maybe they were caught off guard._

 _Caught off guard?_ Of course. _They didn’t know I was coming._

It was natural that they were treating her with hesitation; they’d probably been just as caught off guard as she had been. If she wanted them to give her the benefit of the doubt, she had to give them the same.

She laughed aloud, eliciting a few strange looks from others exiting the metro car, but she didn’t care. A new spring was in her step as she bounded up the stairs and into the open air. Her walk home was lighter than she expected as she allowed some of her disgruntled fear to ebb away.

The door to their apartment swung open as she pushed, nearly toppling over. Ari must have fixed the hinges, which only made her smile a little wider. Kit could hear him singing quietly over the sound of the shower, something in Gaelic she couldn’t place right away. He hadn’t cooked anything, which was fine, but after a quick rummage through the cabinets it was clear she wasn’t cooking anything substantial either. 

They really needed to go to the store that weekend.

In the end, a freezer pizza was all she had to offer. Ari would be fine and fed for his shift, even though it wasn’t the epitome of health. They’d survive. 

“Oi, deirfiúr, cad é sin?” 

_Hey, sister, what’s that?_

Kit wheeled around, giving him a shy and guilty smile. Technically, if they were going to get takeout, it was her turn to pay. He obviously thought this was her effort at biding her time.

“Pizza,” she said, trying to save face. 

“Wow, Kody, amazing. Really went all out this time,” he chided back, running his hands through his slightly damp, equally as red hair. 

Kit knew he was joking. Ari, while the most stoic of the three, loved poking fun at his sisters almost as much as he loved nursing.

“Ah, múchadh. I had a stupid day.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, elbows resting on the counter top and head cocked to the side at her. 

“Stupid day?”

“Yes.”

“Deirfiúr-”

“No, deartháir, it’s fine.”

It wasn’t that Kit didn’t want to talk about it. She _desperately_ wanted to talk about it, but there was pity rolling off him. Kit hated pity. It didn’t make her feel any more capable, which was her new fear as the pity settled over her.

_Damn._

They were both quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room coming from their incredibly old oven as it tried to cook the pepperoni covered, value brand masterpiece. Their apartment wasn’t nice, per say, but it was quaint. It was home for the last two and a half years. The triplet’s little slice of calm in the bustling of The District around them.

“Big feelings?” Ari finally asked, moving past her to take the pizza out of the oven. The shrill timer went off, setting things just over the edge in the room for Kit to have a full blown meltdown.

Ari always could tell when Kit was overwhelmed before she could tell herself. The pity, the heat of the oven, the sound of the timer, and the self doubt that had consumed her so quickly crashed together. Before she knew what was happening he’d pulled her into a hug, tears pooling and blurring her vision. 

“I got reassigned,” she admitted after a moment, her voice tight. The tears had started running down her cheeks, but she wasn’t sobbing. They ran without any effort at all.

Ari pulled away and grabbed her by the shoulders, looking down at her. Kit and Monty had always been short like their mother, but Ari was tall like their dad. 

“What?” He said, obviously surprised. Kit could feel the shock coming off of him the way it had come off of Monty. “Reassigned from the clinic?”

“No,” she said, trying to wipe at the tears that were effortlessly streaming. “I’m splitting time. Some new program for the bureau. I was chosen to pilot it.”

They’d transitioned fully into Gaelic now, the language they’d always spoken at home. Growing up with immigrant parents meant they’d spoken Gaelic in tandem with English, both languages swirling together effortlessly in their formative years. They tried not to use it in public so much, especially in the nation’s capital, but every so often it was nice to.

Here at the apartment though, they allowed themselves to just be.

“Piloting a program?” he asked.

“Yeah. A field certified, academy graduated nurse in each department part time. I guess injuries and stress are up, and rapport with locals is down. They’re just starting with one unit to see how it goes.”

“Local?”

“I think I’m going to have to do sensitivity training with them. Like I do for the nurses once a quarter.”

“What unit?”

“BAU.”

A grin lit up Ari’s face, eyes going wide. His delight was not unnoticed by Kit, and she tilted her head. It wasn’t that Ari was so against the stiffs, but he wasn’t their biggest fan. Not to mention the reputation that profilers had.

“With antibiotics guy?”

_Ah._

Kit rolled her eyes and shoved at her brother’s shoulder. Not hard, but hard enough for him to know she meant it.

“Ari-”

“What’s his name? Mason or something?” Ari was nearly giddy now.

“Morgan. Lay off, I can already tell they don’t like me…” 

Kit sighed and ran her hands down her face, placing a hand on the bottom of each of her braids and tugging gently. She could feel her meds wearing off, and she desperately needed to eat some of the passable pizza she was smelling. 

“I’ve got a desk, Ari. I don’t even know what to _do_ with a desk. I don't know what I’m doing. I’m supposed to get an email tonight and read over it by Monday and I was wearing my scrubs today and my headband. They think I’m an outsider and too young and-”

“Dakota.” He grabbed her shoulders again as he stopped her spiral.

Kit looked up into his eyes, their eyes, and she couldn’t help herself from asking the one question she hadn’t even let herself dwell on.

“What if they think this is way out of my league?”

Ari considered that for a second before leaning close to her, right in her face. His eyes were serious; a mirror staring back at her.

“You prove them wrong.”


	2. Running Wild, Running Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit has her first day in the BAU, a literal run in with one of her guarded teammates, and is appalled by the amount of sugar one person can put in their coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is more of an introduction to Kit, and a description of how her job in the BAU works. Any comments/suggestions are welcomed (read, begged for) and thank you so much to anyone who's reading! I love you!

Kit could not have been more uncomfortable. In place of her comfortable, navy scrubs were a dark blouse and a pair of black slacks. She and Monty had pulled nearly everything out of their closets that weekend, delegating half of Kit’s scrubs to Monty, and all of Monty’s dress clothes to Kit. 

“I’ve got no use for them,” Monty’d quipped, giving her sister a horribly satisfied smirk, “take them all.”

Take them all, she had. Now equipped with said blouse and slacks, a cardigan draped over top to hide how incredibly uncomfortable she was, Kit moved to push through the doors of the BAU. 

It was Monday. Dreaded Monday, and Kit was early. She knew that she had to meet with Agent Hotchner -  _ Hotch _ \- before she started on whatever it was her new job entailed. Being early, she hoped, would stop the staring or the uncomfortable looks she’d get.

She had her backpack slung around her shoulders and a coffee cup clutched in her hand. When she passed through the glass doors she ducked her head a bit, staring at her desk and nothing else as she went to drop her backpack. She really hoped that her body language was screaming “please, dear God, don’t look at me” as much as her brain was. Maybe anyone already there would get the message.

She wasn’t normally so shy. More quiet than Monty, but that wasn’t hard. Monty could talk to anyone about anything because she had no emotional investment being hung up on if they liked her or not. She’d chat the ear off of the quietest, most timid person in the room with no hindrance. 

If anyone, it was Ari that was shy, though if you got to know him well he could be animated and joking and loud.

Kit tried to match the energy of the room. Pulling the emotional gauge of a space and then acting appropriately put her at ease, and it guaranteed that she wouldn’t be the center of attention. The BAU bullpen was quiet, and there were at least five sets of eyes on her the second she walked in.

Apparently there were a bunch of early birds in this unit.

_ So much for ‘no one look at me.’ Maybe I can melt into the floor and everyone will pretend I don’t exist. _

She kept pace, stepping at just under a jog over to her desk and ditching her backpack onto the ground. There was nothing but the shuffling of papers and the ever persistent sound of someone sniffling that seemed to follow her wherever she went. Nothing to mask the sound of her steps as she straightened her shoulders and walked evenly across the floor, up the stairs, and to Hotch’s office.

The door to Hotch’s office was open, but instead of just walking in or announcing herself, she knocked gently on the door frame. 

Hotch looked up from the papers he had been staring at with heavy intensity. There was an entire moment where Kit was nervous that he’d forgotten who she was and why she was there, but he recovered quickly, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk.

“Agent Colghain, come in. Have a seat.”

Kit nodded quickly and moved to sit, holding onto her coffee cup with both hands. Her badge was now pinned to her pants instead of her shirt as it had been on her scrubs, so she couldn’t fiddle with it like she normally did. She didn’t want to pull at her braids either, and her shirt was tucked in so she couldn’t play with the hem even if she had wanted to. Besides, the last thing she wanted was for Hotch to make a comment about her fidgeting on her first day. A death grip on the coffee cup would have to do.

“Good morning, sir,” she said quietly, willing her leg not to bounce as she met his eyes.

“Good morning,” he said. It was a moment before he spoke again. “I expect that you found your desk and had no problem picking up your new badge?”

Kit shook her head quickly, allowing herself to reach out and touch the new badge that she had picked up that morning. The one that allowed her access all the way up; clearance she had never been given before.

“No problems, sir.”

“Good.” 

There was shuffling of files and papers before Hotch held out a stack of files to her, which she grabbed immediately.

“These,” he said, “are the medical files for the team. Your job is to know them in their entirety. You will also be responsible for post-takedown evaluations, not including your own, and bi-monthly wellness meetings which you will give to the unit every other Friday, as travel permits. 

Kit’s hands clenched around the cup as confusion and dread shot up her body.

“Sir?” she said quietly, an attempt to stop him, but he continued.

“If we’re traveling they will happen on the next Monday, or the earliest day we get back that you’re assigned here.”

“Sir,” she said with a little more weight, eyebrows furrowing together as she continued with, “I wasn’t aware-”

“That it would be this intrusive, yes I know. I was sent a file for you to go through with all of your responsibilities. I need you to look through it today. Any questions about your requirements will be to Section Chief Ramos. Other questions to me, and we can troubleshoot them together.”

“I wasn’t aware I’d be traveling.”

There was a moment where they stared at one another. No words crossed between them as Kit took in the discomfort and confusion that Hotch was giving off, matching them with her own before letting out a breath and saying much more quietly, “Or going on takedowns.”

Hotch took a moment to understand, a different sort of recognition flooding through his kind eyes. Kit would have laughed at how it was still weird to her, even after the weekend, that this very serious looking man had such kind eyes. She was sure that they could be horribly mean looking when he wanted them to be, of course. 

_ He probably has children,  _ she decided.  _ It’s hard to have eyes that kind without them. _

Hotch shifted suddenly and folded his hands in front of him on his desk. Kit broke eye contact, rubbing her fingertips gently against her pants before grabbing tightly at her cup again. A feeling of understanding passed between them.

“I was made aware that you have the highest field testing score in the nursing unit. The highest field clearance possible for a special agent of your ranking,” he said evenly. His voice was gentle now, and Kit knew that he had to know how the news of going in the field made deep, dark dread consume half of her consciousness. “Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. Though it was obvious she had no idea this would be a part of her new normal, her voice didn’t shake. Hotch was even now, and she could be too.

“Your firearms qualification exam shows exceptional scores.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Silence tried to swallow the room again, but Hotch didn’t let it.

“Agent,” he said, and Kit hadn’t realized her eyes had dropped to her coffee cup. 

She  _ was _ an agent, and maybe Hotch knew that she needed a reminder. She had trained in the academy to be a special agent, just like everyone else. She was placed in the nursing unit, which is what she had wanted, but she had the right training. She had all the “right stuff” as their field instructor had said. He’d always praised her, but he’d pushed her harder because of it. He was the one that suggested she be pulled, the very few times she had been, into the field around The District. 

She’d loved it. She’d loved being in their field, but Monty and Ari had hated it. They’d said again and again that they didn’t want her to be in danger like that, and she’d agreed. 

But, she was an agent. Just like Hotch had said. So why did it fill her with that much darkness?

She lifted her chin so that her eyes could meet his, and he nodded once.

“This is a new position for the bureau. It’s going to be entirely trial and error.” He took one moment to make sure his eyes were meeting hers fully, and when he spoke again, Kit knew it was genuine. “I trust that you are highly qualified, and while this is not a position I ever imagined as a part of my team, this is our reality. I’m sure you’re the right person for this job.”

Kit let one shallow laugh escape her lips at that. Her head shook as she dismissed what he’d said.

“How could you possibly know that?” she asked.

“Profiling is as much about listening to your mind as it is listening to your gut. And I listen.”

Kit took both the medical files and the file outlining her responsibilities back to her desk after thanking Hotch earnestly. He didn’t trust her yet, that much was clear to her, but he didn’t seem to hate her. He even said she was the right person for the job when he barely knew her. Maybe they had made some ground.

The file that held her responsibilities wasn’t very thick, though she figured it was because they were still trying to pinpoint exactly what her position looked like. Kit had never been a part of something so experimental before, and she didn’t know how she felt about it.

**Health and Wellness Liaison**

**Duties and Requirements**

  * **To support the health and wellness of the unit**


  * To educate the unit on health in the workplace


  * Bi-monthly classes of 45 minutes to be given regarding one of the approved topics


  * To assist in takedown operations in the field and provide field medic services


  * To travel with the unit on cases requiring medical expertise; to travel on, at minimum, 25% of cases where travel is required


  * To know the medical history of the unit team


  * To create a priority of health



The list went on and on. Kit poured over the files, finding a use for her desk much more easily than she thought she would, and keeping her head down. She found that the feeling of ease rolling off of the other agents around her as they worked was helpful in settling her nerves. 

It wasn’t long, though, before she felt a shift in the room. She glanced up from the files to see three sets of eyes looking right at her, all of them confused. Morgan, Elle, and Reid.

Kit looked between them for a moment before trying a small smile. She hoped it wasn’t more of a grimace. 

“Yes?” 

Morgan raised an eyebrow at her, a frown settling on his face. He was radiating annoyance, but his tone was even.

“Greenaway said your name three times.”

A hot blush crawled across Kit’s cheeks.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, turning her attention to Elle and silently cursing her hyperfixation on the files in front of her. “Sometimes that happens when I’m reading. Do you need something?”

Morgan and Reid both sent out a great feeling of confusion, Reid’s more thoughtful than Morgan’s, but Elle gave a small smile.

“I was going to ask what you’re working on,” she said simply. 

Kit didn’t feel like she was being critical, just curious, and she relaxed. 

“Oh, these are your medical files. I’ve got seven here, though. I haven’t met a ‘Garcia’ yet.”

“Our medical files?” asked Morgan quickly.

“Aren’t those confidential?” Reid nearly squeaked.

Kit shook her head quickly, noting the distress in both men. She should have accounted for that.

_ You didn’t like it when Hotch was reading your file at you, how do you think they like it that you’re snooping in theirs? _

“They’re for medical personnel,” she said evenly, keeping her tone light, but not lackadaisical. “The idea is that I’m in charge of what happens to you. If you’re on a case and something goes wrong, I’m in charge of making sure that you don't die in the field, or that a hospital visit isn’t a death sentence.”

There was an increasingly awkward beat of silence before she added, “And they  _ are _ confidential.” She turned so her eyes were specifically locked on Reid’s. “I’m a nurse. I made a pledge six years ago and I intend to keep it.”

The silence stretched on for another long moment before Kit looked away from Reid and back down at the files in front of her. It had been Reid’s she was reading, jotting things into a notebook she’d pulled from her backpack. If she was going to go on traveling cases with them, she was going to have the most important information on hand. 

Kit finally felt their eyes leave her and go back to their own paperwork after a long while. She sighed quietly, turning a page before writing ‘carbenicillin’ under Reid’s name and underlining it twice. Her note taking had its own style, but it meant something to her. The double underline meant that if they ever found themselves in a situation where Reid was in the hospital, she would threaten anyone who tried to give him said bactericidal antibiotic within an inch of their lives. Hotch’s team was her responsibility, and he said she was the best one for the job. She wouldn’t let him down.

The hope was that they would have left her alone as long as they could if she just kept her head down. For once it seemed like her hopes had come to fruition. At lunch time she pulled her sandwich out of her backpack and ate it as she continued to make notes in her notebook, going over each file two or three times before shuffling it to the back and starting the next. Fortunately, there weren’t too many things to be worried about. A few past injuries and a few allergies that in no way, shape, or form deserved a double underline. 

_ Maybe this is going to be easier than I thought? Maybe dealing with local law and families will be the hardest part. I can do people, especially people I don’t need to keep a relationship with. _

When Kit stood up to throw away her trash, she noticed that Reid was the only other person in the vicinity. The others had gone to lunch, or at least that’s what she assumed. Then again, wouldn’t Reid have gone with them? He was a part of their team, and he was a profiler, so of course he was one of them. Then again, there was no evidence that he’d eaten at all. The only things on his desk besides a large pile of files, and an even larger pile of books, were a few pens and a half filled cup of coffee.

The nurse inside of her wanted to ask if he’d eaten anything. However, the self conscious twenty five year old that also lived inside of her wanted to make herself absolutely invisible and hoped he hadn’t noticed that she’d moved. It took all of three seconds for her to choose the latter, making her trip across the room discreet. 

_ He probably ate and I didn’t notice. I was reading, I never notice when I’m reading. _

The hyperfocus was better controlled when she was on her medication, but paperwork had a way of taking hold and not letting go. Monty used to get her attention when they were younger by flickering the lights of their bedroom. It had always drawn her out of whatever homework or book she was working through. Here, no one was going to flicker the lights. 

She’d have to work on it. 

If she hadn’t been so afraid of rejection or judgement, she would have thought about starting a conversation with Reid. He seemed nice enough, if not a little hesitant. Whether the hesitation had anything to do with her, Kit didn’t know, but he wasn’t trying to talk to her, so she left him alone.

When five hit, Kit remained in her seat. The metro she took didn’t come until 5:45, which meant that she had twenty five minutes until she had to leave the building. Downstairs she used that time to wrap everything up, brief Monty after she came in, and finish anything she needed to get done before she started her trek home. Now, on the sixth floor, she watched as Morgan and Elle packed up their things and said their goodbyes, Reid not that far behind them. 

At 5:20 Kit finally rose from her desk while slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She’d tucked the medical files into the bottom drawer of the desk, but put the red notebook in her bag. She always had the bag settled on her shoulders, so it wasn’t like she would ever be caught without it.

She made her way up to Hotch’s office, knocking gently again on the door frame. It wasn’t strange that he was still there, but she did think it was strange that he didn’t look at all like he was planning on leaving in the immediate future.

“Colghain,” he said once he looked up, “Do you need something?”

Kit shook her head and took exactly one step into the office. She pulled gently at the sleeves of her cardigan, as she had long thrown away her coffee cup and now had nothing to grip. She wasn’t sure if Hotch would notice the fidgeting, but she hoped that even if he did, he wouldn’t say anything.

“Just a question,” she said, waiting for him to affirm that she could ask. 

Instead he stared at her expectantly, allowing several awkward moments before he blinked. “Colghain.”

“Yes, sir?”

“What’s your question?”

She ducked her head slightly as she took a step back, embarrassment washing over her.

“Right, yes, sorry. I was thinking of a way to make the wellness meetings less…” She took a moment and sighed, one hand tugging at her braid. “Well. We usually only do them if a unit or section chief requests them. Everyone hates them, and they can be awkward.” She took another moment before saying, “I was thinking of putting a chart with two topics I’m required to cover up in the break room so people could vote on them. Whichever one gets more votes is the one I can talk about, and your team would get a say in this, too. Do you think that’s appropriate?”

Hotch’s face showed the same surprise that flowed through the room, however stoic it was. He was clearly pleased, and nodded his affirmation.

“I think that’s a great idea.” There was a moment before he continued. “I’m sure you noticed this team is a bit closed off. They’re a family, and Greenaway only came to us a few months ago, so please don’t take it personally if you’re feeling… othered.”

Kit shifted on her feet, wondering what gave her away. Was it eating lunch alone at her desk? Or was there something on her face that he could read? Maybe her eyes. She was sure they looked dejected, though she was giving every ounce to not appear that way.

“Kit,” he said, “It’ll take time, and work, but you are a part of this team.”

The quiet that passed between them wasn’t as awkward as before. Kit finally nodded, gripping the straps of her backpack and taking a step backwards.

“Have a nice night, Hotch.”

The last person Kit expected to run into before her clinic shift the next morning was Derek Morgan. 

She was running on the track, just like she did before all of her clinic shifts. The morning before had been the first time in a long time she didn’t, wanting the extra time in the morning to ready her nerves, and she could feel the excess energy burning off as she took herself around the track. Clinic nurses didn’t have enough case hours for their fitness tests to be waived, so Kit tried to get her girls around the track and in the gym every day. It didn’t always work, meaning it never worked, but she and Monty had always trained together while they were in the academy. Once they started working separate shifts, she started spending her mornings alone. 

Kit didn’t even notice that Derek was there until he ran past her. She was a distance runner, always trying to keep an even pace instead of flying for a while only to run out of steam. Her forehead creased as her eyes narrowed just a bit, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips as she watched the man running in front of her. She resisted the urge to wipe at the sweat beading down her face as her mind locked on one thing.

Now, Kit would never call herself competitive. Not out loud. That didn’t mean it wasn’t true, or that she was going to let the thought go. It had locked in the moment it fired across her neurons. 

She poured on speed, close to the end of her workout anyway and not minding if the rest of her cardio energy was spent in a dead sprint. It wasn’t her preferred method of ending her time on the track, but she surely wasn’t going to let Morgan - perfect specimen, distrustful, nurse-phobic Morgan - finish her lap before she did. No way. 

Her strides elongated, gaining on him. She purposefully didn’t look at him as they became even, and didn’t look still as she passed him by, fiery braids swinging behind her.

She could feel him gaining on her quickly, a pulse of something in the atmosphere alerting her to the fact that a man was now chasing her. The end of the lap was just ahead, and she pushed with everything until she broke over the line.

Morgan came up just behind her, and her steps began to slow. Kit felt the wide grin spreading over her face as a broken dam of serotonin flooded her system. The small laugh that escaped her as she ran a hand down her sweat damp face almost startled her, and she very quickly realized how much she missed running with Monty. 

Derek’s footsteps slowed behind her and she laughed again, hands going to rest on top of her head. She took a deep breath and turned to face him, one eyebrow raised as their eyes met.

Morgan was breathing hard as well, a look and feeling of confusion, but also amusement, strewn across his face.

“Colghain?” he said, obviously surprised.

Another laugh escaped her lips, her grin widening.

“Morgan. I’ve never seen you in the morning,” she said back as easily as she could, breath still trying to settle, heart racing.

He shook his head.

“I’m usually really early, or after work. I left late but I’m busy later, so…”

He let his sentence die, trying to even his breath also. Having a conversation after finishing a dead sprint wasn’t all that easy.

Kit kicked her left foot up backwards to stretch her quads, grabbing her ankle easily. Enough time passed for Morgan to speak again, gesturing vaguely to the track and grass in the middle.

“You here every morning?” he asked.

She nodded, stretching her other leg. She took a second before she said, “We’ve got PFTs every year. I try to keep myself from having to… cram for an uncrammable test.”

Derek chuckled at that, looking around.

“You done?”

“No, I was going to do some abs in the grass. At least that’s what I’d planned. You?”

“I wasn’t going to be done with cardio, but if you want a partner, I’m willing.”

Kit didn’t know how she’d done it, and maybe she hadn’t done anything at all, but she could feel that one of Morgan’s walls had tumbled to the ground. What had been a solid fortress not twenty four hours before was slowly lowering its drawbridge as they counted off pushups in the grass. 

When he sat back after finishing his set she didn’t have to speak first.

“So, what? None of the other nurses wanted to run?”

Kit had to put forced effort into not scoffing at his statement, saying, “No, not at all. I used to run with Monty before she was reassigned to swing a year ago.”

“Monty?” he asked, his eyes questioning, “Best friend?”

Kit laughed at that, not discounting him. Monty was her best friend. Well, other than Ari. The relationship the girls had was special, though. Monozygotic. Sharing one soul.

“She’s the head nurse of the swing shift,” Kit said evenly, shrugging her shoulders, “Montana Colghain.”

She let that sit for a moment before she could feel Morgan’s curiosity flare, as well as his sudden understanding.

“Colghain,” he said simply, and Kit had to hide her near-visible flinch at the sound of her last name coming from his mouth like ‘Collin.’ It was bad enough that Hotch said it that way, but she had just said it, and she selfishly wished someone would try. People rarely did, but a girl could dream.

“My sister.”

“You said all the head nurses were twenty five.”

Kit nodded, moving to lay on her back, feet planted. She gestured for him to hold her ankles, which he did after a moment of staring in confusion.

“They are,” she deadpanned from her position on her back before starting her set of sit-ups.

Derek waited until she was done before saying intentionally, “Twins?”

“Triplets. Arizona Colghain is the head nurse on the night shift.”

Silence. Kit waited a moment before doing her next set in a faster time. She sat up and nodded at him, not mentioning the now thoughtful silence that seemed to capture the profiler-turned-work out partner.

“Are you going to go?”

He nodded quickly, seeming like he was trying to shake off whatever he was thinking about. Confusion. Hesitance. He turned and laid on his back, letting Kit grab his ankles before he did his own sets, the conversation seemingly ended.

Kit checked her watch and sighed, not having time to do anything else if she wanted to shower before her shift.

“I’ve got to go if I’m going to be on time,” she said with a small smile, standing and throwing her backpack over her shoulder.

Derek stood as well, looking at the time on his phone.

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah, and as head nurse I’m no later than seven thirty.” 

She picked up her water bottle from the ground and nodded at him before saying, “Thanks for the push, Morgan. It’s been a while. See you tomorrow.”

He nodded in return, giving her a smile for the first time since they’d met the previous Friday.

“See you. Maybe next time, you’ll beat me fair and square.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and sent a scoff over her shoulder, turning to walk away before saying, “You wish, Morgan. You wish.”

The next day saw Kit back on the sixth floor, comfortable scrubs replaced by business attire once again. Ari had laughed that morning when he’d seen her in the lobby, and had made sure he told her she looked like a sad lawyer’s assistant. She’d shot back that he looked like a washed up nursing student, a comment that shut him up without issue.

Her hands were clutching her coffee cup once again, and pushing open the glass doors didn’t seem any easier than it had that Monday. She made her way to her desk to work on her plans for the bi-weekly wellness meetings and couldn’t help but feel like she was about to begin a valiant and very unproductive uphill battle.

_ No one likes these, and they aren’t effective. What could come out of having one twice a month when most people didn’t even like to deal with one once a year? _

Kit pulled a piece of paper from her notebook, making sure the frays came off before she wrote in even handwriting.

**Bi-Monthly Health Meeting**

**Next Friday: Dec 17th**

**Please Vote for a Topic Below**

**Diet/Nutrition** **Sleep Habits**

  
  


**Thank You!**

**-Colghain**

Satisfied, she grabbed a bit of tape, moving with even steps to the small break room. She’d noticed on Monday that almost everyone had disappeared to get coffee, snacks, or something else from there, so she assumed that was the best place to put it.

She hadn’t expected Reid to be there, pouring coffee into his mug steadily, humming something to himself that sounded vaguely classical. 

He looked up and gave Kit the smallest smile, gesturing to the pot in his hand.

“Want some?”

She gave him a smile back but shook her head, awkwardly gesturing to the make-shift sign in her hand.

“No, thank you. I’m just taping this up here. As part of my assignment I have to lead a bi-monthly wellness meeting.” She watched as he wrinkled his nose just barely, but the movement was there. Distaste flooded the room, and she had to laugh. “I know. That’s how I feel, too.”

Reid’s cheeks flooded red, probably not noticing his own distasteful expression. It was the same expression almost everyone gave, so she didn’t find it rude, but he fumbled over an explanation anyway. 

“Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to be rude, it- well- it just seems that every time we have one of those people nod off or ask terrible questions or do anything but pay attention and it’s rude, but they’re boring so I get it, and I don’t want to sound rude by saying that because they could be really informative, but I also understand why people would feel like there isn’t a point. Not that they’re pointless, I don't…” He cut himself off, drifting out of his rant almost as quickly as it had started.

Kit gave him a nod, her eyes kind as she said evenly, “I think they’re boring too. I was hoping that by letting everyone vote on the topic for the meeting it could feel less… invasive. And boring. I don’t really ‘do’ boring.”

Reid stared at her for a moment before he nodded, his smile returning and his blush fading.

Kit moved to tape up her sign, smoothing it before turning back to Reid. He was now pouring a liberal amount of sugar into his coffee, and her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline.

“Ó mo Dhia,” she breathed out in a whisper, her eyes locked on his mug and his mug only. 

“Sorry?” He said, confusion coming off of him in small waves. He didn’t sound confrontational, and Kit was not going to start a confrontation regardless of the way the sugary coffee made her cringe.

“Sorry, nothing,” she said dismissively, moving to lock eyes with  _ him, _ not his daily dose of sugar for the next three weeks. She took a moment before turning to her own sign and adding a quick tally under the “Diet/Nutrition” side of the chart.

Back at Kit’s desk she began to take notes on both options. If she was going to have to do both eventually she was going to need notes. It didn’t really matter how intently the team listened to her. She was going to be ready for their scruitenty regardless.

Morgan walked in at 8:03. Kit’s head snapped up at the sound of footsteps, her focus not being fantastic before her coffee set in, and after Reid had shown her that his sweet tooth rivaled a five year old she’d struggled to think about anything else. She allowed herself to smile when she saw him coming, hoping their interaction at the track would help in the office. 

To her great pleasure, he smiled back.

“You’re here early,” he said. 

She found herself shrugging, sitting back a bit in her chair. 

“Old habits die hard, and I’m not really trying to kill mine if I have to be in the clinic by seven thirty. I’d rather be consistent every day than shift back and forth.”

He nodded, sliding into his seat across from her.

“Makes sense,” he said, “I thought the only one here this early was Hotch. Oh, and the kid.”

“Not a kid,” Reid said evenly, sipping his sugar bowl and burying his face in a book.

Kit gave a quiet laugh before she turned her attention back to her notes, forcing herself to bury her nose as deeply as Reid had.

They worked in quiet for a long while, only the shuffling of papers and the scratching of pens getting in the way of the silence she would prefer. It was nearing lunch time when Kit looked up, suddenly struck with an idea.

“Morgan?” she spoke into the quiet. His head popped up from the file he was working on, eyes questioning.

“Colghain.”

“You said yesterday that you go sometimes after work?”

“To the track?” he asked. “Yeah, sometimes. I try to go in the early morning though, in case we get a case.”

“How early? Because when I’m going to put scrubs on I can go in the morning, but I was nervous about…” 

She stopped fully, letting that sit.

_ Nervous about looking like a drowned rat in front of these sixth floor stiffs. Nervous about wet hair and no make-up, even though I hate the way it sits on my face and covers my freckles. Nervous that everyone would look at me as if I was the disaster I think I am.  _

_ Nervous that Ari really was the better choice, and I’d prove that faster than I got to prove that I could do it. That I could do this. _

“Nervous about looking like someone that keeps their body running at the caliber it should?”

Morgan said it so smoothly. So evenly. Kit wished she had that kind of mindset.

“Well, when you say it like that-”

“It sounds obvious. Don't you worry about anyone else. Work out in the morning. In this job, sometimes, you run.”

There was a moment where Kit let Hotch’s words from the day before come back to her. “It’ll take time, and work,” he’d said, “but you are a part of this team.”

Maybe she should attempt to believe it and listen to what Morgan was saying.

Her hands found the hem of her shirt, fingers playing around the seam. She had left it untucked in hopes that giving herself a little place of grace would calm some of the nerves the bullpen gave her. 

With that, and Morgan’s assurance, she found she was smiling.

“Thanks, Morgan. I think I’ll take your advice.”

He nodded and looked back at his file. It was a moment before she decided to look down at her notes again, only scratching one word before he said, “Five thirty.”

Her face split into a grin, noting the answer to her original question. Five thirty. She normally did six, but she could do five thirty.

She lifted her head to answer but stopped short when she saw Hotch come out of his office. 

He faced them and cleared his throat once, causing Morgan, Reid, and Greenway to look up as well. His tone was even, but urgent, and his face was set. 

“Conference room. We’ve got a case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this story is based off the song Second Child, Restless Child by the Oh Hellos. I'll probably keep using lyrics as the chapter titles, because this song is the thing that's been on repeat while I've though about this and written it and dwelled on it. Thank you for reading!


	3. They Saw Trouble in My Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit goes on her first case with the BAU and butts heads with everyone's favorite veteran profiler, Reid is a habitual sniffler, and protocol is out the window as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gap fill for 1x12, What Fresh Hell?   
> TW for child abduction and general Criminal Minds Unsub ickyness.
> 
> I've never written a gap fill so please forgive me if it's sort of a disaster. Please let me know what you think in the comments, I always love suggestions/comments/and especially questions! Also criticism! Hit me with it!
> 
> PSA Spencer Reid is a habitual sniffler and no one can change my mind. He annoys all his friends. Emily Prentiss has thrown a box of tissues at him on several occasions only for him to argue that he doesn't need them, he's actually fine. She screams into the void.

“Eleven-year-old Billie Copeland was last seen on the playground at 4:30 yesterday afternoon.” 

JJ was walking around the table, handing over case files in manila folders. Each bore the print of the bureau on the front, and Kit blinked in surprise when one landed in front of her.

She knew that she was going to be a part of briefings. She’d been a part of a few during the handful of times she’d been called into the field directly out of the clinic. The times Monty and Ari dreaded but she secretly loved. She just didn't know that she would be a part of a briefing with the BAU team this soon. It was Wednesday. She’d barely started on Monday.

Kit almost missed Hotch speak, and when he did it was clear that he was agitated.

“That's… twenty hours ago. Child abduction response plan says we get notified immediately. What happened?”

“Well, there was reason to believe she was with her father,” JJ said, opening her own file as she stood next to their Unit Chief. Kit mirrored her, opening her own. “Her cell phone shows a call to him around the time of the disappearance.”

“So they've since ruled him out?” Gideon said.

“He called the mother about an hour ago,” JJ clarified. 

“That doesn't mean he isn't involved.”

“He's on his way to the family home, so you can talk to him there, but the local police are now considering this a stranger abduction.”

“Twenty hours late,” Morgan said. 

Kit’s heart sank. She glanced through the file, listening closely to Gideon and JJ go back and forth. Twenty hours was a long time in an abduction case, she knew that, but it was Reid’s voice that dropped her heart even further into her stomach.

“Long-term stranger abductions of children Billie's age are rare. They represent only half of one percent of all missing cases per year, but they are usually more likely to be fatal.”

_ Fatal. This little girl could be dead. How are they going to find her? _

Of course, Kit had done more research about the BAU in the last few days. Or, at least Monty and Ari had. They dealt with abductions, stalkers, arsonists, you name it. Their specialty, however, was serial killers. To say that had nearly sent Monty into a spiral would have been an understatement. 

Kit had come to terms with the fact that she could -  _ would _ \- come face-to-face with killers in her new position. The thought was less than comforting.

“Of the children that are abducted and murdered, 44% die within the first hour. From that point forth, their odds of survival greatly decrease. 75% are gone after 3 hours. Virtually all of them are dead after 24.” Reid finished, looking unhappy with his own assessment.

Hotch spoke immediately after Reid had finished. “Which means we have just under 4 hours to find her.”

“Shall we go?” Gideon said, already turning to walk from the room.

The others moved quickly, standing and taking their files with them. The room cleared, and Kit found herself facing the backlash of the left-over emotions in the room. Uncertainty. Frustration. Anger. Determination. It floated around her and settled in her chest like a weight. 

Her hands went to close the file quickly, not wanting to look at Billie Copeland’s face anymore. They would find her. They had to find her. They were good at their jobs, and they had their own specialties. 

Billie Copeland would be okay.

“Colghain?”

Kit looked up at the unexpected uttering of her name. Hotch was standing there in the doorway, eyebrows drawn together, looking at her expectantly.

It took her a full three seconds to say, “Sir?”

“The jet’s already on the airstrip.”

She stared at him for a moment, entirely unsure of what he meant. 

_ Yeah, it is. Go get that little girl before something terrible happens to her. You’re worried, so why would you be talking to me? _

“Good. The flight to Delaware has to be less than half an hour. You guys should go.”

He looked even more confused by her statement.

“Yes, we should,” he said evenly, nodding once at her file, “You’ll need that. Come on.”

“Sir? I’m confused.”

“We have to drive to the airstrip and we have no time to waste. Pick up the file, Colghain, let’s go.”

Oh.  _ Oh. _

“I’m… going with you?”

Hotch’s eyes flashed with understanding as she looked utterly confused.

“Yes. Judging by the report Billie has a broken arm in a cast, and she’s been missing twenty hours. She could be in need of immediate medical attention when she’s found.”

_ When _ . Not if. Hotch had said ‘when she’s found.’ Somehow, that was all Kit needed to stand from her seat. 

She was going with them, to Delaware, to help with a child abduction. Billie Copeland was counting on them to find her alive, and Kit was going to be a part of that team.

_ Ó mo Dhia. _

They loaded into SUVs that took them to the airstrip. The jet was waiting for them, and Kit didn’t have time to wonder or ask or think about anything before peering into her file and taking it all in.

Just like the medical files she had for the team, she noticed Billie Copeland’s medical information was slipped between the first two pages. She knew that wasn’t typical of case files, which meant that JJ had gotten that specifically for her. This file was meant for her. She wasn’t a last minute addition or an extra file. They had meant for her to come. 

Kit closed the file. She’d look at it on the jet, like the others. Still, she only had twenty-six minutes between take-off and landing to read the file and take a moment to center her thoughts.

Or at least that’s what Reid had said. The way he had rattled off statistics in the conference room had hit her once he’d gone at it again on the drive over, and she was both surprised and intimidated by his intelligence. She had also noticed that Reid, while gangly and awkward in social settings like in the break room or the bullpen, was confident when it came to facts and figures. When they had been in the conference room he had rattled off statistics with ease, and now in the car he rambled on and on about Wilmington, child abduction rates, and Billie Copeland. How he’d already read the entire file she had no idea. Kit was a fast reader, so were Monty and Ari, but finishing the file before they were in the car? That had to be impossible.

She also found herself bristling at the fact that while he was book smart, he seemed to have a very low grasp of social intelligence. Hotch and JJ were in the SUV with them on the way over, and she didn’t miss the way they both allowed Reid to keep talking and talking while the annoyance in the air grew. 

It was the same on the jet, Reid talking and rambling while everyone seemed to try and tune him out and read their files. The only one not giving off the feeling of annoyance was Gideon. Kit had watched him smile at Reid’s rambling the same way her dad used to smile at Al, her youngest brother, whenever he droned on and on about video games he liked or movies he wanted to see.

Kit had waited for everyone else to sit before she had taken the seat she was in now. She closed her eyes for a moment before digging into the information, file flipping open just like it was in the laps of others. She could feel the fingers of her right hand tapping gently, but rapidly against the fabric of her pants. She kept the file open in her left, but let herself take a breath. 

_ How the hell am I going to do this? _

She didn’t want the rest of the team to think she was incompitant. She didn’t want to show them that she didn’t belong. The only ones that had made her feel a bit like the wasn’t an intruder was Hotch, as was his job, and Morgan, who had only seemed to accept her after their accidental run-in at the track. The others had given pleasantries, but she knew how to play that game. 

She was a nurse. Pleasantries were her specialty.

Once she’d finished her read through of Billie’s file, she felt confident she could handle anything thrown her way. At least, in terms of Billie’s health. If something had happened to her, there were no medication or preexisting conditions she needed to relay to EMS other than her broken arm, which while it came from a nasty fall, shouldn’t be an issue.

_ Unless her abductor did something to it _ . 

She had to physically shake her head to stop herself from spiraling into that hole.

_ No. She’ll be okay. She’ll be okay. _

_ And if you can’t find her? If you find her dead? If you find her and she’s hurt, and you can’t help her? If she dies because of something  _ you’ve  _ done? What then, Dakota? What are you going to do then? What will they think of you? What will Montana and Arizona think? What will you think of  _ yourself _? _

“Hey, Colghain,” Morgan said, yanking her out of her thoughts.

She looked up to meet his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

His eyes were concerned, and she hadn’t realized a hush had come over the jet. Even Reid was silent. 

They were all looking at her. All of them. Kit could physically feel the hot blush flood across her cheeks as her chest tightened even deeper, and before she could stop herself her hand was creeping up to tug on the bottom of one of her braids. She hadn’t even noticed the tenseness of her body until she’d been shaken from her thoughts. She didn’t relax.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? I said your name three ti-”

She cut him off quickly, saying. “I told you Monday, it happens when I read. I’m fine.” 

She hadn’t intended for any sort of venom to find it’s way into her words, but it had. Her tone had been just shy of biting, and she knew the look in her eyes had betrayed her usually calm facade. She could almost always keep it even. Keep calm. But between Billie’s abduction, her own spiraling thoughts, and the embarrassment of everyone staring at her, she could only starve off the big feelings with so much efficiency.

Kit blinked hard once before she took a breath, letting all of the tension out of her shoulders. 

“Sorry,” she said quietly, “That was rude. I’m fine. Really.”

She was fine. She could be fine.

* * *

They loaded into new SUVs the second they landed. The Copelands’ home wasn’t a terribly far drive, and Kit kept herself quiet as the rest of the team bounced around ideas. The urgency was never lost, and no one had made a comment about her outburst as of yet, which she was terribly thankful for. 

_ Keep your emotions in check, Dakota. Calm, nothing else. Keep your head. The big feelings can wait.  _

“We’re here. I want everyone here at the house but Morgan and I. The family is here, and they’ll need support. I also want them questioned, but keep it covert. The last thing we need is for the Copelands or local law to think we’re hostile or apathetic to their situation.” 

“She's been missing twenty-one hours,” Reid said, climbing out of the SUV, ignoring the pointed look he was receiving from Hotch. 

Kit didn’t miss it.

“We're gonna go meet with the lead detective at the park where the girl was last seen,” Hotch was saying to Gideon. He was clearly referring to himself and Morgan, who had stayed in the car as requested. 

“We need to know everything that's being done,” Gideon said, now completely in control of the situation.

“I'll find out what the press is running, see if I know any of them. We may need to manage what they put out,” JJ said.

“Good,” Gideon offered. He turned to Reid. “See what the uniforms know from the canvasses. Elle and Colghain?” 

“Yeah?” Elle asked as she and Kit jogged to quickly catch up with him.

“I need you two to be a liaison with the family.”

“A liaison?” Elle asked.

“In a child abduction, the parents are likely to break down if we aren't careful.”

“Okay.”

“Of course,” Kit added. She knew that. She’d watched it happen once with Monty at the hospital they’d worked in just as they finished their degrees. The mother had a nervous breakdown after her son went missing that landed her in the ER. “You don’t think both of us will be overwhelming?”

Gideon didn’t break stride as his mistrusting voice cut deep. “Isn’t this the only reason you’re here? Bedside manor?”

Kit almost stopped short, but pushed past his bristling tone to keep stride. She knew that Gideon didn’t trust her, maybe the most of anyone, and she figured she deserved that after her outburst on the jet. 

She could fix her relationship with Gideon at another time. In that moment, she had to focus on proving his misconception of her wrong. 

_ Bedside manor. What a joke. _   
  


Kit sat beside Elle on the Copelands’ horribly ugly couch as they listened to Detective Russet on the news. 

“We're looking for a white male in his thirties who drives a late-model green SUV. If anyone has seen anything suspicious, we have a hotline set up at the Wilmington police department. Billie Copeland is an eleven-year-old girl. The last time she was seen, she was in a blue track suit and a blue soccer uniform,” Russel finished just before Mrs. Copeland, Marilyn, turned the television off. 

“They've been running that over and over again for the past two hours,” she said as she sniffled. She’d been crying steadily since they’d come into the house. “The press wants to talk to me. I just-I don't think I can face it.”

“That’s understandable,” Kit said gently. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, keeping her eyes soft and voice quiet. “You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.”

“Why don't you just tell us what happened?” Elle said with just as much gentleness, and Kit was pleasantly surprised. Elle had a face that held severity, but she was proving that she could be just as kind as anyone else.

“Um... I was focused on practice, and... Billie was... Being a pain as usual. She was giving me attitude. So I told her to run it off. I sent her away.”

Neither agent said anything as that hung in the air. It took a moment for Elle to speak again.

“How long have you been divorced?”

_ Wow, okay.  _

“Um… it's been final for six months, but we haven't lived together for over a year.”

“You seeing anyone?”

Mrs. Copeland laughed humorlessly. “Between work and Billie, when would I have the time?”

Kit understood what Elle was doing now. If there was a man around Billie often, he could be the abductor. She allowed her voice to stay soft and unassuming as she asked, “Not one date? Any men coming over to the house?”

Mrs. Copeland shook her head.

“I- I had a few casual dates after work, but they never came to the house. Billie still hopes that her father and I will get back together.”

“How did Billie's dog die, Mrs. Copeland?”

Kit and Elle both quickly turned to the sound of Gideon’s voice. It wasn’t sharp as it had been when he had addressed Kit outside. It sounded soft and understanding, the way that Kit instructed the nurses during their quarterly training on, well, bedside manor. 

“Uh... It was hit by a car two weeks ago,” Mrs. Copeland said, her head tilting as she gave off a wave of confusion. “How did you know that?”

“Shrine in the room,” Gideon said evenly. “Helps her grieve?”

“Her father did that for her.”

“They get along well?”

“Best of friends. She calls him every night, tells him about her day, asks about his. He's a cancer survivor, so he takes time off from work, pulls her out of school for father/daughter field trips. Says we all need to stop and enjoy life. But he forgets that he has responsibilities, that they both do. Which makes me the bad guy. And she blames me for the divorce.” 

Mrs. Copeland’s sadness was now coupled with hints of frustration. “Blames me for everything. I should have just let her go with her father.” She wiped at her mouth slightly, her voice wobbling as tears brimmed in her eyes once more. “I'm sorry,” she finished before standing up and walking from the couch. 

There was a moment before Kit looked between Elle and Gideon, decision set.

“I’ve got it,” she said quietly. She stood up and followed as Mrs. Copeland walked away from the living room and into the kitchen.

Kit hung outside of the door, shifting her weight, tapping on the side of her leg, anything to get her to wait. She wanted to wait. She wanted to give Mrs. Copeland just a moment alone to either collect herself or fall into hysterics. Kit could deal with either. She  _ had _ dealt with either more times than she could count. Her time in the ER had been incredibly informative and gave the fastest crash-course in people she could have imagined. She could do hysterics. She could do steely resolve. But she had to wait, if just thirty seconds.

Those thirty seconds proved fruitful. When Kit walked into the kitchen, Mrs. Copeland was getting a glass of water, tears now gone from her eyes. She was overwhelmed, and Kit hadn’t wanted that. She wanted to lessen the burden, and now she could start. 

“I want you to know that you don’t have to apologize,” Kit said quietly, pushing her back against the wall of the kitchen. She wanted to give Mrs. Copeland space, but still stay in orbit. “Everyone processes differently, and you don’t have to apologize for the way you do it. Especially if it’s by crying. We understand.”

Mrs. Copeland looked at Kit for a moment before nodding, just slightly. She took a breath and picked up the glass of water she had gone to pour. Kit noted that the mother’s hands were shaking less than before, and her resolve had come back to her. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and Kit allowed herself to smile.

“Of course,” she assured. “Anything you need, I’m here. Agent Greenaway too.”

Both women jumped as the front door nearly slammed shut. Kit turned sharply towards the noise, peering along with Mrs. Copeland towards the noise.

“Where’s Marilyn?”

“I have been calling you all night!”

Mr. and Mrs. Copeland had fought as soon as she rounded the corner. 

“I'm sorry, Marilyn. I turned my phone off.”

“How could you turn your phone off? What if Billie got sick or- we needed you.” 

“I said I was sorry!”

Mrs. Copeland stalked away, but Kit didn’t move to follow her this time, instead staying in her spot by the Copeland’s piano. Her eyes worked over Mr. Copeland for signs of stress, just as she was sure Elle and Gideon were doing. 

It was a moment before he addressed the agents. “What's being done to find my daughter?”

“We're assessing that right now,” Elle said calmly.

“She's been missing since yesterday! What the hell have you people been doing since then?!” Mr. Copeland exclaimed, gesturing wildly. 

“Where have you been, Mr. Copeland?”

Gideon’s calm was a stark difference to Mr. Copeland’s frantic energy. The older man was sitting relaxed on the couch, not allowing any expression on his face. He held a calm that the Copelands couldn’t.

_ Bedside manor. _

“Me?”

“Where were you all day and all night?”

Mr. Copeland came down to meet Gideon’s level, and Kit noticed that some of the tension ebbed away from him. There was distinctively less anger in the room.

“I have a cabin in Brandywine valley.”

“Police tried you there.”

“Well, maybe I was out at the time.”

“Billie tried your cell phone yesterday afternoon.”

“Well, I shut it off sometimes. I like the solitude.”

“You didn't fight your wife for custody of your daughter. But you...you like being in her life.”

Gideon was starting now, changing their game of verbal tennis. He was starting to move from gentle questions to ones that could give them information. Kit shifted her position, not moving any closer, but opening her stance so she could face Mr. Copeland directly. She needed to see every movement and facial expression if she was going to read him the way she wanted to.

“I want her to grow up in her home with her friends around,” Mr. Copeland said. “This is the only place she's ever lived.”

“So you love her very much.” Gideon assured, though his face showed small hints of accusation.

“Yes,” Mr. Copeland insisted. 

“Why do you waste any precious time we have left?”

Kit and Elle exchanged a look. Elle’s eyes seemed to ask, “This could get ugly. Are you ready for that?” which Kit tried to not let offend her. Between Gideon and Mr. Copeland’s combatting emotions of calm and volatile, Mrs. Copeland upset and frustrated in the other room, and Elle’s not-so-secret surveying of Kit’s own emotional state, Kit had no time to feel put-off by Elle’s lack of faith in her. Big feelings could come after, but while Billie was still missing, nothing else mattered.

“You weren't at your cabin,” Gideon was saying. “You weren't at work or with friends. Police didn't call us until a little while ago because they thought your daughter might have been with you. That you might have taken your daughter.” Gideon stood. “Until you can give us a satisfactory accounting of your whereabouts from the time your daughter went missing until-” 

Gideon stopped to laugh humorlessly for a moment before continuing. “Would you help me understand why a devoted father who talks to his daughter every night suddenly turns his phone off, disappears for almost twenty-four hours?”

“I was...busy,” was all Mr. Copeland gave.

Kit and Elle exchanged a look again, but this time neither was combative, or searching. Both women held confusion in her eyes.

“It's one thirty,” said Gideon. “You called your wife at eleven thirty, found out Billie was missing.” 

“So?” Mr. Copeland asked.

“Well, Brandywine Valley's fifteen minutes away. Where were you, Mr. Copeland?”

“I-”

The feeling of guilt was sharp. Kit was used to that feeling. It radiated in hospitals when someone felt they were to blame, and even in the clinic when cadets had to bring in a friend after a drill-gone-wrong.

It was guilt that Mr. Copeland was giving off. Kit was sure of that, but she was also sure that it wasn’t the guilt of someone who had harmed someone else. 

It was the guilt of someone who had bad news. 

“I was at Sloane Kettering Hospital in New York City. Dr. Baylan Mahal is the head of Oncology. You can call him if you want.”

Kit let out a breath, her own chest dripping in the same sorrow Mr. Copeland felt. He was sick, again, and she would bet on her life he hadn’t told anyone yet. Now he was being forced to tell federal agents that didn’t know him, and who were, in some ways, accusing him of kidnapping his own daughter.

“I will,” Gideon said evenly. Mr. Copeland scoffed lightly and sat down in one of the living room chairs. 

“Had a relapse?” was Gideon’s continuance. As if he had to ask. The answer was all over Mr. Copeland’s emotional output. 

“It's in my lymph nodes now,” Mr. Copeland said. “There's nothing more they can-” The silence in the room was palpable as the rest of Mr. Copeland’s sentence hung in the air. “Please find my daughter. Find my daughter.”

For a moment it looked like Gideon was going to offer comfort to the grieving, guilty father in front of him. 

Instead, he turned to Kit, locking eyes with her for a moment before he dismissed her from the room, only saying, “Call Sloane Kettering.”

Kit did, and Mr. Copeland’s story was confirmed. He had an alibi, though Kit knew he hadn’t kidnapped Billie. Mr. Copeland loved his daughter, that much was incredibly obvious. And with a diagnosis like his? He wouldn’t want to waste any time he had left with her.

The team found themselves in the Wilmington Police Precinct. They were to give the profile they’d come up with to the officers and detectives working the case, which at that point was everyone they had.

Kit found a spot at the back of the room, perched on a desk, and watched with hawk eyes. She’d never seen them give a profile before, and she was admittedly eager to see the storied BAU in action.

“Billie Copeland has been missing twenty-two hours. It is vital that we locate her in the first twenty-four,” Gidion started.

“The unknown subject in this case is most likely a resident of one of the subdivisions around the park. We have cancelled the amber alert. We need to coordinate with all your officers to pull everyone off the street immediately,” Hotch said, and Kit was amazed by the way his voice didn’t give away any sense of confliction. He was sure of this profile, and he oozed confidence. 

“That's crazy,” an officer challenged.

“Just hear me out,” Hotch said.

“But it goes against Carp procedure. You guys wrote the damn thing.” The officer continued.

Reid didn’t let him go any farther before he launched into an explanation. 

“Carp is just a guideline for immediate response to child abduction. Believe it or not, we're already late in the game, and we do know enough about this unsub to know that if he feels like we're closing in on him at all, he will kill Billie to avoid detection. If anything, we need to lessen the pressure on him.”

There it was. The confident side of Reid. There was no hint of anxiety or social incompetence in him as he addressed the officers’ confusion or hesitance. He knew exactly what he was talking about, and there was no room for question.

“The man fits in 'cause nobody knows what he is,” Gideon continued evenly. “Can we really know our neighbors? He walks his dog. Does yard work. Solitary activities appeal to him, but if you watch closely, you'll see he pays a little too much attention to the neighborhood kids. Largely goes unnoticed because he isn't perceived as a threat.”

“He's a white male, in his late twenties to thirties,” Hotch picked up. “He has a menial or temporary job. Socially marginalized and frustrated. He relates better to kids than he does to adults.”

He’d made his way into the sea of officers, stopping near where Kit was. He caught her eye, and on instinct she nodded. As they’d been talking she’d been creating an image in her mind, the pieces falling into place. The man who’d taken Billie was out there, and this was his description. It all made sense. It was relieving to feel that way. If she’d felt lost, the spiral of ‘not-good-enough’ would only have tightened. Instead, it loosened, just slightly.

“This is not his first offense against children, but it is his first abduction,” Elle said, pulling her from her thoughts. It was the first time she’d spoken.

“How do you know that?” Detective Russet asked from her position that was relatively close to Kit.

“First-timers hunt closer to home. Experienced predators don't,” Elle explained.

“And,” Hotch added, crossing back to the front of the room. “He's had a recent stressor, a job loss or other setback. Unable to maintain a normal relationship, he'll have extensive pornographic materials in his home and on his computer. And while they won't all involve children, some of them definitely will.”

“Since he used the missing dog ruse and we believe him to be a regular fixture of the neighborhood. It's quite possible that he truly does own or did at one point own a dog named Candy. We recommend cross-checking veterinary records with residents in the neighborhood,” Reid said, sniffling as he did so. His eyebrows had drawn together, and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. 

Kit raised an eyebrow, suspicion settling into her heart. If she was the betting type, she would think that maybe the sniffler in the office over the last few days that seemed to grate at her skull was the good doctor himself. 

Maybe he was just a habitual sniffler. Maybe not. Only time would tell.

“He will not inject himself into this investigation,” Hotch assured, and Kit wished for just one moment that she could keep a train of thought. 

She desperately needed some coffee.

“Don't these guys like to know what the cops know?” Detective Russet asked.

“No, not this type of unsub. He's hiding. He doesn't know what anyone saw. He doesn't know if there's any information about him out there. He's unlikely to walk in, ask us... "Can I help you?" But I can guarantee you he will be watching the news. So how we handle them is very important,” Gideon said with conviction. There was no doubt in his voice.

“Check your canvass records,” Hotch said, “One of you may have had contact with him in the early stages.”

“What about registered sex offenders?” Russet offered.

“We've got somebody working on that right now.”

“Ok, ladies and gentlemen, everyone clear on that? Good luck. Thank you,” Gideon said with finality. 

There was shuffling after that, everyone starting to move. They had two hours to find Billie, and damn it, they were going to find her alive.

* * *

Kit and Elle went with the Copelands back to the house, hoping for a calm environment. Mr. Copeland fiddled with a pill box, annoyance and disbelief dripping off of him as he listened to Elle recount the step the investigation was taking. 

“You took the police off the street?”

Elle explained it calmly, saying. “We believe your daughter was abducted by someone in the area and that she's probably still nearby.”

“Then shouldn't you be flooding the area with cops, knocking on doors?”

“It's not that simple,” Kit said gently, trying to deescalate the situation before it could escalate in the first place. 

“Yes, it is,” Mr. Copeland shot back quickly.

“You're taking the meds again.” Mrs. Copeland sat down, staring with disbelief.

Mr. Copeland didn’t comment, instead saying, “Look... What exactly are you people doing to help get my daughter back?”

Mrs. Copeland didn’t let it go. “You're sick again, aren't you?”

“We want you to meet with the press…” Elle said before things could escalate. 

“Both of you,” Kit added, training her eyes on one of the disheveled parents, and then the other.

Mr. Copeland was not impressed. “Press conference. That's what you have? You just said you're already taking the press that's running off the air.”

“We know,” Kit defended quickly, keeping her tone light. “This will be different.”

“Trust us, Mr. Copeland,” Elle asked.

The doorbell rang, and while Mrs. Copeland said she would answer it, Mr. Copeland stood instead.

“Just tell Marilyn what you need us to do,” he said.

It was quiet again before Mrs. Copeland addressed the two women.

“That was his second remission.”

“I'm sorry,” Elle said, and Kit nodded her agreement. Mrs. Copeland was defeated, and it showed in every way.

“Billie won't even talk to me anymore. How am I gonna tell her that her father's sick again?”

“One thing at a time, Mrs. Copeland. Once we find your daughter, you'll figure it out,” Kit said gently, placing a light hand on Mrs. Copeland’s shoulder. 

All three women turned to the sound of Mr. Copeland opening the door and addressing whoever was outside.

“Can I help you?”

“Mr. Copeland, I'm Helen Godfrey from a few blocks away,” Kit heard the woman say. “I have printouts on all the sex offenders in the area. I think if you just... Look at any of these-”

Through the window, Mr. Copeland could be seen taking off towards his truck. Elle groaned quietly, moving towards the door as Kit quickly followed. There was a new tenseness in the air.

“What the hell? Mr. Copeland?” Elle darted out the door, Kit on her heels, “Mr. Copeland!” 

The woman who had been at the door called to the agents’ backs as Mr. Copeland backed quickly from the driveway in his truck. “There are sex offenders in the area. I thought he should know.”

Kit and Elle turned quickly towards her, both women barring faces of annoyance that they didn’t even try to mask.

“Stupid.” Kit heard Elle say as she took her phone out. 

She hit the speed dial for Hotch, something he’d programmed to her FBI phone on Monday, and made her voice even as the phone stopped ringing.

“Hotchner.”

“Hotch,” she said quickly, “We have a problem.”

“Mr. Jones isn't interested in pressing charges.”

The team, sans Kit, Reid, and Gideon, entered the room where the Copeland’s were being held. Kit was already there, sitting silently as Hotch and JJ tried to unravel the mess Mr. Copeland had made. Attacking a sex offender wasn’t the most horrible thing a person could do, but Mr. Copeland had still committed assault,  _ and _ it hadn’t even been on the man that had taken Billie. The assurance that Mr. Jones wasn’t going to press charges allowed Kit to let out the breath she hadn’t quite realized she was holding. 

Mr. Copeland was clearly not as relieved. “Am I supposed to be grateful? The bastard’s a pedophile.”

“No,” Hotch said seriously, “he isn't.”

“Did you check up on him?” Mr. Copeland came back with, glancing around at the other members of the team. “Did you ever search his house?”

“His sex offense was soliciting a prostitute. It had nothing to do with children,” Morgan assured from the doorway. 

“But he's registered on-”

“Mr. Copeland, there are a lot of ways to get on that list. That's why accessing that type of information is supposed to be left up to law enforcement.”

Mr. Copeland ran a hand down his face and started to walk away, but Hotch didn’t stop. “We understand your frustration and your anger, but you're jeopardizing our efforts to save your daughter's life. Every minute spent chasing you is time we're not spending on Billie. So either get control of yourself and follow our directions or stay out of our way.”

There was a moment that Kit worried someone was going to explode. The tense energy in the air between Hotch and Mr. Copeland was palpable, and the rest of the team didn’t have to be empathic to feel what Kit was feeling.

Thankfully Mr. Copeland stayed quiet. Instead it was Mrs. Copeland that asked, “What would you like us to do?”

JJ spoke up for the first time, the women having let Morgan and Hotch address Mr. Copeland.

“Make a public appeal for information regarding a witness driving a dark green SUV.”

“Isn't he supposed to be the suspect?” Came Mr. Copeland’s voice. 

“Yes, but when people hear ‘suspect,’ they can't see the guy next door as a monster,” Hotch took back over. “They can't imagine their neighbor could do something like this.”

“If he's a witness, he might be a hero,” Elle added. 

Mrs. Copeland wasn’t clearly not convinced. 

“Okay, but what if he thinks it's a trick? What if he panics or thinks it's too risky, and then he-”

“It's not just him that you'll be speaking to. It's his neighbors as well,” JJ said. 

Mrs. Copeland looked at Kit, who had been silently taking in and noting the emotional output of each individual person in the room. No one felt hostile anymore, at least for the moment. Ms. Copeland looked at her with eyes of desperation. 

Kit cleared her throat and nodded in agreement with JJ, Hotch, and Elle.

“People like to see the best in other people. You want to believe your neighbors are good, just like you’d want them to believe the same of you.”

She nodded once, moving her eyes when Morgan spoke.

“We've done everything we can to relieve the pressure on this man. We've taken the cops off the street. You won't have any standing with you on the dais. Only a local minister.”

“Hearing he isn't a suspect might calm him down as well. Right now he's under enormous stress, and we need him to believe, even if it's just for a little while, that we're way off the mark. That we're not close to arresting him,” Hotch assured softly. His voice, and his own frustration, had calmed greatly. Kit tilted her head as she watched him speak.

_ He is so much softer with her than he is Mr. Copeland. Why is that? Not that I’d ever ask him. _

“Are you? Close to arresting him?” Mr. Copeland asked. The smallest wave of hope settled over the room.

“We need the public's help,” Hotch said simply. His voice carried the same calm he had offered Mrs. Copeland, and Kit had to physically stop herself from smiling. 

Hotch was a stern man, and he was absolutely a believer in the justice system. If they did everything right, things would work. Mr. Copeland not sticking to the script had clearly annoyed and frustrated him. However, in that moment, he let Mr. Copeland see past that. He genuinely believed what he was saying, and Mr. Copeland needed that reassurance. 

The Copelands agreed to the press conference. JJ led them to the front, cameras and reporters everywhere. Kit had left them to stand in the back, and she wasn’t surprised when Hotch took a place next to her, crossing his arms, lips in a hard line. 

Kit had no idea how long these cases usually lasted, or what led them to create the profile they had. When she’d heard it all the pieces had made sense, but  _ how _ they’d gotten there stumped her. She couldn’t understand what would lead a person to kidnap a little girl. Hotch did. Morgan and Reid did. Gideon certainly did, and Elle clearly had a grasp of it, too. Even JJ, who Kit knew was their communications liaison and was very much not a profiler, seemed to understand what was going on before she could. It didn’t bother her, per say, but the competitive pull she’d felt on the track with Morgan was creeping up her neck.

She didn’t let it show. Not like she had on the plane. Kit wasn’t going to lose control again, not in front of these people. Not in front of  _ Hotch _ . He’d said she was the best for the job, and she was going to prove it. 

He looked stern again, and if she wasn’t paying attention, she would have missed the anxious twitch in his jaw. Hotch was worried. Was it the Copelands? The fact that they weren’t as close as they wanted to be to catching Billie? Was it Mr. Copeland continuously flying off the handle?

Kit took a breath before she leaned over to Hotch, looking up and getting on her tiptoes so she could speak as quietly as possible. 

“None of these reporters feel hostile to me…” She bit down on her lip, worrying at the end of her braid. 

Hotch looked down and raised an eyebrow, glancing back to the crowd of reporters.

“But?” he asked quietly,

Kit swallowed and took a breath before speaking quietly, saying, “But there’s a… terseness. There’s a lot of people in here, so I’m not sure exactly who it is, but someone has something up their sleeve.”

“Who told you?”

“No one, sir. I can feel it. It’s not malicious, but it’s… something. There’s something.”

She lowered back from her toes, not missing the peak of curiosity as Reid glanced over to them. He had his eyebrows pulled together, arms crossed over himself not in the way Hotch had, but in a defensive position. She watched as he sniffled once before turning his eyes back to Mr. and Mrs. Copeland, both now pleading for their daughter. 

Kit was waiting for the shoe to drop. Waiting for whoever it was that had the ace up their sleeve.

In the end, it was Hal, the reporter JJ knew from her vague past. 

“So the body located by police earlier today is not Billie's?”

“ _ Damn it _ ,” Hotch breathed, staring at Mr. Copeland as his face changed to one of frenetic confusion.

“What?”

The atmosphere in the room had shifted suddenly. 

“The female body-” the reporter was fast to continue. 

JJ was faster.

“There'll be no more questions. Thank you.” Her words didn’t give away to any disagreement, and Mr. and Mrs. Copeland were led away.

Kit moved without thinking, meeting the grieving and confused parents by the door.

“What body?” Mrs. Copeland said desperately, looking at Kit like she was a lifeline. Fear and grief and desperation were rolling over Kit now, but she kept her face even and her voice calm. There wasn’t word on the body yet. It hadn’t been identified. There was a chance, and Kit was going to cling to that with everything she had.

“Agent Colghain, what are they talking about?”

“Please, Mr. and Mrs. Copeland. Please come with me and someone will answer every question to the best of their ability.”

She could feel Elle and Morgan right on the parents’ heels as she led them from the room. 

_Damage control is not the control we were going for,_ _but here we are._

She hadn't led them far into the bullpen of the precinct before the desperation turned to anger.

“Is there a body?” rang Mr. Copeland’s voice.

Elle tried to deflect for the both of them, but Kit knew his anger was directed everywhere.    
“Please just come with me.”

“Tell me right now-” said Mrs. Copeland, “did you find a body?”

“Mrs. Copeland-” Morgan tried.

“Did you find Billie? Is my daughter dead?”

“A body was discovered,” came Hotch’s voice from the doorway, walking swiftly to the rescue. Kit desperately hoped he would give them more, but as it turned out, he didn’t have to.

“It's not Billie.”

The voice belonged to none other than Jason Gideon, and Kit had never been happier to see the man. She didn’t remember a time she’d ever been happy to see him at all.

_ There’s a first time for everything. _

“The body that was found was much older and has been dead a number of days. Looks like maybe a junkie or an overdose.” His voice was even, matching even Hotch, and Kit could see Morgan and Elle physically relax into the news that the eleven year old was, as far as they knew, still alive. 

“Are you sure?” Mr. Copeland asked desperately. 

“Yes, I saw the body myself. It's not your daughter.”

Mrs. Copeland began to unravel. “My god, I can't- I can't…” She was beginning to cry, and Kit could feel the impending breakdown. She moved to intercept the haggard woman, but Elle beat her to it.

“Please just come with me,” the veteran agent said gently. She led Mrs. Copeland away, and Mr. Copeland followed quickly behind.

Gideon’s frustration was downplayed, but obvious.

“What the hell was that about?”

“A report asked them about the body,” Morgan supplied.

“Probably heard it on the scanner,” Hotch added, letting his tone slip into dejection. 

The overall morale of the team was slipping, Kit could feel it, and with it her own. She knew that time was running out. She knew the statistics - Reid had told them to her at least three more times since the case had started. She knew how parents reacted when their child was gone, really gone, and there was no end in sight. She’d witnessed it and felt it with them. 

“I should have prepared them for that,” JJ said, and she sounded guilty. 

“We don't have anything to tell them yet.” Gideon’s voice sounded like he thought everyone was being dramatic, looking around at them with the eyes of a general watching his soldiers give up the war.

“Billie's running out of time,” Reid said, stating the obvious to them. He sounded almost as desperate as they all felt.

Kit couldn’t stop herself before she said, “So are the parents.” Her eyes met with Gideon's, and she felt the annoyance that came as he locked his eyes with hers. He broke and looked around at the rest of them before turning and moving. His voice came over his shoulder, and the six of them followed in his wake as he said, “Come on. A little hope, huh? We'll make it. We’ll make it.”

Kit found herself back in the office with Elle. They sat with Mrs. and Mr. Copeland while the others went to look through canvas records, or in JJ’s case, keep tabs on the media. Neither parent had spoken, and while Mrs. Copeland cried, Kit let herself become lost in thought. Her fingers were drumming along her pant leg again, which she figured was better than her leg bouncing a million miles a minute. She’d gotten some coffee earlier, but she needed more caffeine. 

She let herself drift back to Gideon. Did she annoy him as much as it seemed she did, or was he just projecting because of the frustration of the case?

_ He probably just hates me. Hotch mentioned it might take them some time, and clearly Gideon is close with Reid, but he didn’t seem to be too close to everyone else. Maybe that’s just how he is. _

_ Or, _ said the other voice in her head,  _ maybe he sees right through you. You showed them on the plane. You try to be calm, and together, and not let the emotions overwhelm you. But they  _ do. _ He can probably see it in your eyes, just like Mam and Dad always did. _

“Oh, my god. Billie…” Mrs. Copeland’s quiet cries shook her from her thoughts, and Elle’s response beside her left her nodding her head.

“You have to be strong now. You have to.”

“Don’t let yourself think of anything bad. Let yourself hope,” Kit continued, and she saw Elle nod her head in agreement.

The door to the office opened, and it was Gideon that walked in.

“How we doing?” he asked once he sat in a chair facing the Copelands.

“All her life…” Mr. Copeland said, voice breaking. “When my little girl needed help, she came to me. And now, when she needs me most... There's...nothing.”

He stood up quickly, opening the door and walking out. Kit got up to follow, but Gideon shot her a look of warning. He shook his head, standing up himself.

“Stay,” he said, and he walked out the door to follow Mr. Copeland.

Kit could feel the hot blush crawl up her neck, and she tightened her hands into fists before she stood up.

“Kit-” Elle started, but Kit didn’t quite look at her.

“I’ll be right back,” she said calmly.

“But Gideon-”

“I need some water.” Kit turned to face the other two women, and she could feel the apprehension coming off Elle easily. “Do you need anything, Mrs. Copeland?”

The mother shook her head, wiping at her tears, and Kit took that as her cue to slip out the door behind Gideon. She pulled the door shut and easily found Gideon and Mr. Copeland. They were by the water fountain, speaking in hushed tones, and Kit found herself standing and staring at them. If Gideon didn’t trust her, that was fine. 

_ No, it isn’t. _

She would get over it. She would prove herself. She wasn’t a profiler, not like they were, but she knew people. Being there for people, handling people, reading people, that was half the reason she was even there. 

Being told to stay, like a dog, was certainly not.

* * *

“Colghain, let’s go.” 

Hotch’s stern voice gave no room for question. Kit was standing by the water fountain now, telling herself just to drink some water. She didn’t need any coffee. At least, not any more than she’d already drank that day. 

“Go where, sir?” She asked, though she had already fallen into step with him. Gideon was ahead of them, and she almost let her shoulders sag when she saw that he was pushing the doors open and quickly climbing into the passenger seat of one of their black SUVs.

“Morgan and Reid think they found our unsub, and if that’s true, you need to be with us.”

_ They might have found Billie. This could be a takedown. _

Kit’s hand floated to where her gun was strapped to her belt and nodded quickly. This was the other half of her job. Make sure no one got hurt, check over victims, and if necessary, use her weapon to ensure the safety of her team and, in this case, Billie Copeland.

She climbed into the back seat, lower lip between her teeth and she took a breath. It was times like these she never had to worry about fidgeting, or becoming distracted, or excess energy. Adrenaline ruled the field, and her body was completely still while Hotch drove them to meet Morgan and Reid.

“Third house down on the right. We knocked on the door, but nobody's answering,” Morgan said as soon as they walked up. Reid finished the thought.

“His neighbor said he's definitely in there.”

“He's got a green Ford Explorer in the garage.”

“Break down the door,” Gideon said simply, and Kit could feel her eyebrows pull together as she stood on his right side.

“No,” Detective Russet said, “We don't have probable cause.”

Morgan was having none of it. “He's got a green SUV. He had a dog that died recently. He spends time in the park.”

“He’s pretending he's not home,” Hotch finished.

Russet continued her disagreement. “None of which are illegal. No judge is going to sign a warrant based on that information.”

“You're weighing the life of a child against the price of a door?” Gideon said, appalled, gesturing towards the possibly unsub’s house.

“I'm weighing the law against the price of a door.”

“The girl's in the house right now. The longer we stand here, the longer he has to finish her off.”

“I'll call a judge. If we go in there without a warrant, all that evidence will get thrown-”

Hotch cut Russet off as she dialed on her cell phone. “We're aware of the rules of evidence.”

“What do you propose that we do?” Kit asked seriously, her words directed towards Detective Russet. She had to make sure Russet felt heard and respected, or else the precinct could complain, and it would assuredly be her fault. Not that she agreed with Russet at all.

Her adrenaline was already pumping, just like she could feel from Gideon and the others. Everyone was ready, but Detective Russet was simply continuing to cite protocol.

“We tow his car, we impound it, and we search it-”

“Gideon!” Morgan called.

Kit hadn’t even realized Gideon had left her side and was running across the street towards the unsub’s house. They all followed quickly, Kit glad she wasn’t wearing heels like she’d seen JJ in. The one thing she’d told Monty she wouldn’t compromise were her black sneakers, and she’d never been more happy to disagree with Monty than she was as she ran down the street.

“Gideon, wait a minute! Gideon!” Morgan still called after him. 

Kit, Reid, and Morgan had stopped in front of the house. Hotch was right on their heels. Gideon had grabbed a flower pot and was using it to smash the window of the house. 

He was frantic. Kit could easily feel the frenetic energy coming off of him over the adrenaline the rest of them were sharing.

“Gideon, you need-” 

Morgan stopped yelling as Gideon climbed through the window. There was a moment where no one moved, but then Morgan was yelling and kicking in the front door with practiced ease.

“Federal agents!” 

“FBI!” Hotch yelled, and both men entered with their guns drawn.

It would have seemed Kit had done it a million times, not just five or six. She acted on instinct and training as she drew her own gun, position automatic and confident. She turned away from where the men had gone, clearing another part of the house. 

She held her gun aloft as she checked the kitchen, calling once she had secured the area. No sign of the unsub.

“Clear!”

The next sound she heard was Gideon yell, and she moved towards the sound without a second thought. She came through the hallway just as Reid did, his own gun in hand, to see Morgan, Hotch, and then Gideon. 

Gideon had his gun trained on the forehead of a terrified looking white man in his late twenties to thirties. Just like Hotch had said. 

“Where's Billie Copeland?” Gideon was saying.

“Please don't hurt me,” the man stuttered, his panic washing over Kit. It didn’t affect her in the slightest. Her adrenaline ruled now.

“Gideon…” Morgan warned as Gideon cocked his gun, nearly pressing it against the man’s head.

“Please! Please put the gun down,” the man pleaded. 

“Gideon!” Morgan tried again. 

The unsub came flying towards Morgan, Gideon having thrown him down the hall.

“Get him out of here!” he nearly growled.

Morgan caught him with ease by the back of his shirt, dragging him down the hallway as Gideon called behind him loudly. “Tear the place apart!”

They tore the place apart. There was no sign of Billie. Hotch had moved outside, but Reid, Morgan, and Kit were all searching in what they assumed was the office of Curtis, the unsub. Reid had taken the computer, which Kit was more than okay with. Technology wasn’t something that came incredibly easy to her, and while she could do anything she needed to in the clinic, she wasn’t going to try going through the computer of a child abductor.

Morgan had taken on the task of going through Curtis’s VHS tapes. When she saw the first child she turned away, blocking the image and sound out of her consciousness.

She’d taken on the bookshelf. Her hands trailed along the spines, opening books, looking between them. Anything could be a clue as to where Curtis was holding Billie.

Kit didn’t even realize that Gideon had come in until Reid started speaking.

“Just as we expected, he has an extensive collective of deviant photos and cartoon downloads.”

“Partitioned in separate folders?” Gideon guessed, and Reid hummed in affirmation. “Access the internet history. Identify any pornographic sites, shut 'em down.”

“I'm uploading to Garcia as we speak,” Reid assured.

Kit had continued to work on the books, using her hyperfocus to her benefit. There was a moment of quiet before Gideon came on the other side of the bookshelf, pulling books down onto the floor without caring where they went. 

He hadn’t touched the computer, or went to move Morgan’s tapes.

_ Does he really not trust me to look through these books? _

She turned to look at him, eyes probably giving her away. Ari sometimes called them her “little green lasers” when they were directed his way.

He caught her eye, furrowing his brows before looking down and addressing Morgan.

“What is it? Is it all porn?”

“It's a lot of home movies with a bunch of kids in it. This one-you need to see it.”

Kit braced herself for the video when Morgan slid in the tape. Her focus was broken now, and she could block out the horrible sound she heard as the tape started. 

It was Curtis’s voice, saying, “Shh. Remember what I'll do if you tell.”

She moved away from the bookshelf without a second though, walking out of the room without a word. Not one of the three men stopped her.

Hotch was outside, staring at the cop car Curtis was sitting in. Kit came alongside him, planding her feet as her hands fell into their normal rhythm. The adrenaline was ebbing now, and the jittering energy was coming back to her.

They stood in silence for a moment before Hotch spoke.

“Did you watch the tapes?”

She nodded lightly, not looking up at him. Hotch didn’t light a fire inside her like Gideon did. She wanted to prove herself to Hotch because he seemed to believe in her, even if just a little bit. She wanted to prove herself to Gideon so he would stop looking at her like she was trouble. Like she was there to get in their way.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Child pornography. His voice is in them, Hotch. He filmed those kids himself.”

Hotch was silent for a moment before he said, “And the computer?”

“Reid said it’s the same. Child pornography. Every bit of it.” 

“Walk with me.”

Hotch started for the cop car, and she scurried after him. She was significantly shorter than the rest of the team, and it took her almost two steps for each of his long strides.

Hotch leaned against the cop car, speaking to Curtis through the open window. 

“Your tapes, your computer, are full of child pornography.”

Kit hung back a step, watching Hotch talk to him clinically. 

She could do clinically. 

“Do you guys have a warrant?” Curtis asked, “I didn't see a warrant.”

“You're going to prison. Right now for how long is up to you. It's in your best interest to help us,” Hotch said, not addressing the fact that they very much did  _ not _ have a warrant. 

“I want a lawyer.”

_ I dtigh diabhail. _

Kit knew the law. She’d listened to their older sister Ginny rattle off a million laws and rules when she was preparing to take the Bar. Curtis lawyering up? That was bad for them.

Hotch took it in stride. “Then we won't be able to talk to you anymore. We won't hear your side of the story, and we won't get Billie Copeland back to her parents. Now, you can help us.”

Kit could see what he was doing. If they could appeal to his human side, maybe he would help them. Maybe he would understand.

“You can save her life. You can save their whole family, their whole world,” she said gently, poking a bit around Hotch. She didn’t let her absolute hate for the man in front of her show. She gave him the same gentle look she would a patient. The same soft voice and understanding tone. 

He  _ was _ sick. Just not a sickness she’d ever treated.

“Make it right,” Hotch said. 

Curtis was quiet. Tears streamed down his face.

“Can you close the door?” He said finally. He looked straight ahead. “It's cold.”

Hotch slammed the door shut on Curtis and took back off for the front door, Kit right at his heels. She could feel the absolute annoyance Hotch had coursing through his veins, and she couldn't stop herself from feeding into it. 

She had really wanted it to work. She had wanted Curtis to choose to be good. To choose compassion. To choose to be a good person, like she truly believed anyone could choose to be. 

“Curtis lawyered up,” Hotch said as they came in the door. Detective Russet and Gideon were in the living room.

Russet didn’t even try to show surprise.

“Of course he did.”

“That's the first smart thing he's done,” Gideon said, and annoyingly, Kit couldn’t disagree.

Hotch continued. “We broke into his house, and without Billie, we don't have the exigent circumstances we need to make this stick.”

Kit understood what that meant. They hadn’t had a warrant, after all.

“We may have to let him go,” she said, and she didn’t miss the look in Gideon’s eyes.

“I told you we should have waited,” Russet said.

“Yes, I know. We made a call, and if there are any recriminations, we will take full responsibility-”

“Hotch,” Gideon said, effectively cutting Hotch off. It seemed like he might be smiling. “He's the man.”

“Jason,” Hotch acquiesced, “I agree, but we may have been overly hasty.”

“Hasty?” Russet said, looking between the three agents, “You know as well as I do unless we actually find him in this house, any evidence we find is fruit of the poison tree.”

Kit watched as Gideon leaned forward, eyes fixed on a broom sitting against the wall. He stood up and walked for it, picking it up and touching the bristles. 

Gideon pulled something while and thready off of the end of the bristles, eyes transfixed on it before he looked up at Hotch and said quietly, “Insulation.” 

He walked quickly down the hall, his eyes scanning the ceiling. Kit, Hotch, and Russet were right behind him, and the grate at the end of the hall caught Kit’s eyes just as Gideon said, “There it is. Hotch, get me up here.”

Hotch grabbed a chair from a nearby room quickly, handing it over to Gideon.

“Here.”

Gideon didn’t waste time getting on the chair, pulling at the tabs on the grate until it opened.

“Up.”

Hotch nodded, not that Gideon could see him. Adrenaline was racing again, and everyone was focused on the hole in the ceiling now.

“Go. Go,” Hotch said.

Gideon did just that, hoisting himself into the ceiling. There was a moment before they heard him from above.

“She's here.”

Kit turned to look at Hotch for a moment before she called up to Gideon.

“Don’t move her!”

“Don’t move her?” Hotch said incredulously. 

Kit’s eyes went sharp, she repeated her call.

“Don’t move her, Gideon! Don’t even think about it!”

“I’m bringing her down,” Gideon’s harsh voice came, and Kit turned, her voice loud and leaving no room for discussion. 

“Stop! Do  _ not  _ move her, Gideon.”

“Colghain-”

“She could be hurt, Hotch. She’s got a broken arm, and she’s been held nearly twenty four hours by a pedophile.  _ And _ she’s in the ceiling.” She gestured to the ceiling, and then to the small medical pack strapped to her belt, near her gun holster. “I was given this position to do two things. Emotional control and medical intervention.”

She let her eyes bore into his, giving every bit of conviction she could to her voice. “Get me up there, and let me do my job.”

There was a moment of silent standoff before Hotch’s eyes gave way. He glanced for the ceiling and said, “Jason, don’t move the girl. I’m sending up Colghain.”

“Hotch!”

“Don’t move.”

Kit got up on the chair, allowing Hotch to grab one before he grabbed her by the waist and helped her into the hole in the ceiling. There was no way she would have been able to reach on her own, and she was thankful that Hotch had hoisted her without her having to ask.

When she was safely in the small space, she noted Gideon’s hateful look. Annoyance and frustration came straight for her, but she pushed them to the side of her mind. She had literally no time to feel bad about the way Jason Gideon felt about her. All her focus was on Billie.

“Hi Billie,” she said gently, “my name is Kit. I’m a nurse. I’d love for Jason to be able to take you down from here, but I have to make sure you’re alright to move first. Is that okay?”

Billie had tear tracks down her face, and her mouth was red around the corners. She looked from Gideon to Kit before nodding, and Kit went to work quickly.

“Was there something in your mouth, honey?”

“A shirt. It was really tight,” Billie said quietly. 

Kit brushed some of her tears away with her thumb before quickly checking her over.

“You’re being so brave, a leanbh,” she said gently, the Gaelic phrase slipping from her tongue without notice. It was only a few moments before she nodded, giving the little girl a smile.

“Okay, does anything hurt?”

“Not except my mouth.”

“What about your arm? Does it hurt?”

Billie shook her head, then stopped and nodded just slightly.

“A little bit. I broke it last week.”

Kit nodded, moving her elbow to check for range. She spoke quietly, a small smile on her lips.

“My sister broke her arm when we were ten. She had a pink cast just like this.”

Billie smiled, just a bit, and said, “Pink is my favorite.”

“Yeah?” Kit asked, satisfied with her range and ready to let Gideon take her. “That’s Monty’s favorite too. Let’s go see your mam and dad, huh?” she said finally, and Billie nodded. 

Kit backed off, allowing Gideon to move into a position to help pick her up.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said to Billie. He handed her a small fluffy ball from his pocket. “I took that for luck. Let's bring it back to where it belongs, ok? Let's go see your mommy and daddy.” He moved her to where the opening in the ceiling was, calling down.

“Hotch! Here she comes. Here you go, sweetie. Watch your arm. Watch your arm.”

Once Billie was placed through the hole safely, Gideon turned on Kit. There was something in the air that she couldn’t place, but she let herself make eye contact with him. He wasn’t going to intimidate her, no matter how much everyone else respected him. He was a great profiler, and it was clear that he cared deeply about their cases, but she wasn’t going to let him stop her from doing her job.

It was quiet for a moment before he said simply.

“It’s in your eyes.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Not all the time. Not with the victims. Not with local law. Hell, not even with the team, most of the time,” he continued. 

Kit didn’t move.

“What’s in my eyes, sir?”

Gideon shrugged, full eye contact unwavering.

“There’s trouble in your eyes, Agent Colghain.”

Kit took a moment before she nodded. 

She was calm, and collected. Some would have said shy. Gideon saw right through her, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of something deep seeded tugging in her chest. She finally chose to say, “That’s what my dad always said, sir.”

“As a compliment?”

“Are you giving me a compliment?”

A beat.

“No.”

She nodded once and shimmied to the opening in the ceiling. She looked over her shoulder at him quickly before responding honestly just before dropping through the hole.

“He wasn’t either.”

* * *

They left the precinct quickly, but not before Mrs. Copeland had nearly crushed them all with hugs, including a very uncomfortable Reid. They’d left on a good note with Detective Russet, and Kit was confident they would not receive a negative review for the bureau to hold over her head. 

The sun was down when they got to the jet, and everyone found a seat quickly. Reid, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch had sat at seats with tables between them while Gideon and Elle had taken two couches that faced one another. Kit didn’t want to intrude, so she walked to the back of the jet and settled herself in the corner of the farthest couch. She pulled her red notebook out of her backpack with a pen, having wanted to make some notes about the team for her own records. The more she knew about them, the better she could protect them, after all.

It wasn’t long before they were playing poker, using what Kit guessed were either Goldfish crackers or tiny pretzels as their chips. She didn’t think about the fact that they were all touching and then subsequently eating all the snack pieces, but she did note that Reid had continued to sniffle steadily through their time in Wilmington.

Maybe it  _ was  _ habitual. She made a note of it.

“I got absolutely nothing,” Morgan said in defeat, putting his cards out.

“Aw, nothing,” JJ agreed, putting her own cards down. 

Kit suppressed her want to giggle, fiddling her pen and watching them with a grin. With their guards down and a successful case, the BAU team seemed almost human. They were playing and joking, and even Hotch seemed to be more relaxed than she’d seen him in her short time with the BAU.

Reid was looking guilty, but there was a grin on his lips, “Sss… two pair... Of aces,” he said, a playful smirk morphing onto his face. 

It was the most human Kit had seen him act, and it was nice to see that he wasn’t just an awkward robot person. The feeling she pulled from him was safety, and that’s how he looked. He felt safe with his team, and with her away from them, not intruding, he was allowed to feel safe.

“Oh, get outta town! Why you always winning? Nuh-uh!” Morgan was laughing as he berated Reid.

“'Cause he cheats,” JJ interjected, and Reid shook his head.

“Poker?” He started to explain, “It's mathematics, it's statistics-”

“He's from Vegas,” Hotch finished.

Morgan laughed, “House rules.”

Reid nodded, looking slightly guilty, “There's that, too.”

They continued to play, restarting and reshuffling. Kit looked on still, reveling in the positive emotions that were filling the jet. There’d been so much frustration and worry over the last half of this day. She couldn’t believe that morning she’d gone into work at Quantico. Or that it was just the day before she and Morgan had accidentally met at the track.

_ My entire world has changed in a matter of hours. _

She couldn’t wait to tell whoever was home when she got there. She’d have to take the metro home, but she didn’t mind. The energy in the room filled her, and she could let herself feel tired when she collapsed into her bed.

“Hey, Hotch,” Gideon said, and Kit had almost forgotten he was there. She wished she’d kept her fantasy. 

“Yeah?” 

“Did you send flowers to that tech room girl... Garcia… and say they were from me?”

Kit’s eyebrows raised, as did Morgan’s.

Hotch nodded, saying “Yeah,” as if it wasn’t going to confuse everyone in the jet.

“Why?”

Now Kit wasn’t the only one watching. Everyone was listening to Hotch and Gideon’s conversation.

“Jason, people need to know that they're important, and sometimes you forget that.”

His eyes darted, just for a moment, to Kit. They darted back to Gideon just as quickly, and Kit was thankful no one could see the blush spreading up her neck and across her face. The embarrassment she felt was all her own, and she took solace in the fact that her embarrassment,  _ and  _ her conversation with Gideon in the ceiling, was unknown to the others.

“I already sent her a gift,” Gideon said, “An mp3 player. They last longer. Unless you drop them or the battery dies, whichever comes first.”

“So she got two gifts,” Hotch said, sounding a bit strained.

“What if she thinks I'm sweet on her?”

Looks were exchanged between the team, and JJ even glanced at Kit, the two women sharing a smile and a laugh before Gideon shrugged and said, “Maybe not.”

They’d deplaned and gotten back to the BAU quickly, everyone grabbing the things they’d left. Kit snagged her thermos off of her desk, dreading cleaning out any coffee left in the bottom. Hotch told them he’d see them in the morning, and that they could finish their paperwork then. He assured Kit she could do the post-case paperwork and send it up on her break the next day, and that she could do her BAU-liaison paperwork on Friday. 

She didn’t complain, and left just after Morgan. Gideon and Reid were still there, and she really didn’t want to be caught by Gideon and watch Reid take his side. Their relationship wasn’t lost on her, and she could tell Reid would take his side in an instant. Not that there were sides to take. Kit wasn’t going to argue with the BAU veteran. She would just prove him wrong.

Kit gripped the strap of her backpack as she stood at the metro stop. Trains came further apart at night, and the next one would take at least five minutes. She wondered if she would get home before Ari left for the clinic, but she wasn’t hopeful. He liked to go early and make sure Monty did her paperwork, which she always did, but that was just Ari. That was how he’d always been, and the girls loved him for it. The truest “type-A first born” of all time, Arizona Colghain.

She passed the time by trying to put her thermos in the side pocket of her backpack without having to take the backpack off, but it took only two minutes for her to drop it down to the pavement.

“An bhfuil tú ag magadh?” She mumbled to herself, desperately not wanting to bend down and pick up her thermos. Before she could, though, it was being thrust at her.

She blinked, reaching out for it and looking up into the eyes of a very tall stranger.

Or, a very tall Spencer Reid.

“Oh,” she said simply. “It’s you.”

Reid shrugged awkwardly, allowing her to take the thermos. He shoved his hands in his pockets, clearly not sure what to do now.

“Thanks,” she added, dread settling. What the hell was she doing on her metro platform? She’d never seen him before, not once, so there was no way he was taking the train.

“What language is that?” He said suddenly, and she blinked at him.

“What?”

“The language. When you dropped the cup, you, ah-” He moved a hand to rub at the back of his neck, sniffling softly. “You, well, you said something and it wasn’t in English.”

Kit looked up at him for a moment before she tilted her head. He was very clearly uncomfortable, and she wanted to make it lessen, but she was guarded. Who knew if he was on recognizance for Gideon or something.

_ Maybe he’s trying to find cracks. Gideon said my eyes held trouble, what if he’s sending Reid after me to find it? _

She also hadn’t realized she’d spoken in the first place, and she was letting him shift more and more as she left his question unanswered. His fingers flicked in front of him before he shoved them back into his pockets, rocking back and forth just so, sniffling again and driving her crazy by doing so.

“I said something?” she decided on.

“Yes.”

“What did I say?”

“An bhfuil tú ag magadh,” he said fluidly. His accent wasn’t horrible, and he’d hit all of the sounds. 

Kit couldn’t mask her surprise. “That was really good.”

“Thanks,” he said, shifting on the spot. “What does it mean?” 

“I said, ‘are you joking.’ You know, because I dropped my cup.”

Silence settled over them again, and Kit thought for a moment that she was experiencing whiplash. Just hours ago he was clinical and confident. In some ways, she’d thought he sounded cocky, or a little full of his own brain. Now he was socially incompitant? 

_ I could have been wrong. This was my first case, maybe that’s what things look like on a case. We haven’t really interacted outside of the office. Really the only one I’ve seen outside of work hours is Morgan. Maybe _ -

“Did you know that 48.2% of Americans speak a second language at home? The most commonly spoken languages are Spanish, with 41 million speakers, Chinese with 3.5 million, and Tagalog, the national language of the Philippines, with 1.7 million speakers in the United States. Actually-”

Kit refused to cut him off, mostly because she didn’t cut anyone off. It was rude. But the transition between horribly awkward silence to Reid now going on and on like he had on the jet confused her. Was he social, or not? 

She didn’t have to think about it for very long, not that she had a lot more to give. She was feeling more and more exhausted by the minute, and she sighed in relief when the redline rolled to a stop in front of them. Reid stopped talking, hazel eyes watching her green ones as she connected their gaze. She could tell it made him uncomfortable, to be making eye contact, so she didn’t let it last.

“This is my train. See you Friday, I guess.” 

She walked onto the train without a second thought, turning and offering an awkward wave over her shoulder. “Thanks again for saving my thermos.” 

He gave a small wave as well, walking away from the door of the train.

Kit sighed and sat down in one of the empty seats, shoving her thermos in her bag and placing her head in her hands.

_ What the hell was that about? _


	4. Quick to Recognize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Reid won't stop sniffling in the office, Kit thinks she might lose her mind. Instead, she find some footing as the team is called to New Jersey. People are being poisoned, and the medicinal side of this case falls right up Kit's ally. Maybe Gideon won't find her a problem if she can use her expertise to help them solve this case.   
> Maybe she can help the team's favorite, stubborn genius in the meantime, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of a gap fill for 1x13, Poison.  
> TW for illness, hospitals, and drug mentions.
> 
> This sort of got away from me, so the second half will be posted next week! Thank you thank you to everyone that has left kudos, I really appreciate it! As always, comments/questions/suggestions are welcome! Criticism too! Please, help me get better! :)

_ Sniff. _

_ Sniff. _

_ Sniff. _

“Táim chun m’intinn a chailleadh.” 

“Sorry?”

Kit’s head snapped up, meeting Morgan’s quirked eyebrow without a moment’s hesitation. 

“Huh?” She said without ceremony, reaching up to rub at her eyes. She was river deep and mountain high into a stack of paperwork for which there was no end in sight. The last case they’d done was one she’d not been required on, and when the team came back, she’d been required to do their post-takedown physicals. Considering she wasn’t  _ there _ and they could have easily been looked over by the EMTs on site, she was feeling a little bitter.

Plus, they’d hauled her up from the clinic, scrubs and all, into prime stiff-ville to do said physicals instead of having the team just  _ stay on the first floor _ and meet her at the clinic. She tried to tell this to Hotch, but he said it wasn’t his call, and if looks could kill, the one she got from Section Chief Strauss as she eavesdropped on their conversation would have put the head nurse six feet under.

That was Friday.

It was definitely Monday. Despite their best effort, there was a lack of enthusiasm floating around the office, and the weekend already seemed like a memory.

A beautiful, wonderful, tragically-ended memory where paperwork was nowhere to be seen and the coffee wasn’t tepid at best. Kit had learned in her two weeks on the sixth floor to lean into the slow days at the BAU, especially when they’d left her behind. It had been a super quiet couple of days, and while she was glad not to be practically alone in the bullpen, it was decidedly better than listening to the persistent  _ sniffling _ coming from her right.

Morgan chuckled at the woman sitting at the desk across from him, gesturing vaguely around the room in a show of his amusement at her confusion.

“Oh nothing, just usually we speak English in here.”

She groaned, running a hand down her face. Kit hadn’t even realized she’d spoken aloud, let alone spoken in anything but English. Down in the clinic no one noticed if someone was mumbling to themselves. There was privacy in the constant flurry of activity, and Kit found herself missing it desperately. 

“Right, I didn’t notice.” She stopped and pulled her eyebrows together. “I mean. I did notice. That you speak English. Up here, I mean. I-” 

Kit cut herself off with a disgruntled groan, worrying the end of her braids with her hands. She tugged gently, the action always grounding her back to the task at hand as her brain attempted to spiral away.

“Can I try again?”

Morgan was laughing now. They’d found a sort-of-friendship in the time they trained around the track. Kit had started going earlier so that she could go even on the mornings that she was in stiff-ville. Morgan was always there, and while they didn’t always partner up, Kit had decided it was better to train with someone else on occasion than train alone every day. She’d missed the comradery, and honestly, Morgan was a cool guy.

“Sure, Lep,” he responded easily, a teasing smirk on his lips.

Lep. Short for Leprechaun. While she didn’t love it, it was better than him butchering her last name every time he addressed her.

“I meant that I didn’t notice I  _ wasn’t _ speaking English.”

“Figured, I sort of just wanted to watch you stumble through it.”

She threw a ball of paper at him, having been previously ripped out of her notebook and snowballed until it was unrecognizable. She didn’t think that trying to keep all the notes for their “Fun Friday Health Meetings” would be such a chore, but scheduling was starting to be the most hated part of her new position. Easily. 

“That’s-”

_ Sniff. _

Her hand came down and smacked on the desk, eyes darting to the offender.

Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid. 

She was going to kill him.

Morgan would assure Elle later that the lasers in the nurse’s glare were assuredly deadly, and that maybe Gideon had been onto something when he’d mentioned on the plane that he “wasn’t sure about that Colghain girl,” and that “there’s trouble in her eyes, Hotch. You can’t tell me you didn’t see it in Wilmington.”

Morgan wasn’t sure about all of that. Kit was, for the most part, quiet and passive. But when Kit’s eyes flashed towards Reid in a frustration he didn’t understand, he thought he might have seen a little bit of what Gideon meant.

“What?” He asked quickly, “What happened?”

“Reid,” she said quietly, trying to even out her frustration and match Morgan’s confusion instead. 

Morgan glanced over at the younger agent with a raised eyebrow. Reid was his friend, Kit knew that, and that they’d worked together almost two years. He clearly didn’t want to see the kid in the firing line. The younger man hadn’t even noticed that Kit had said his name, eyes scanning quickly over the page of a book, then the next, the page turning in a fraction of the time it would take any other member of their team. Or any other member of the human race, for that matter.

When Morgan looked back to his occasional training partner and saw that she still had fire in her eyes, he couldn’t help but ask.

“Woah, Lep, what’d he do?”

“He won’t stop  _ sniffling _ ,” she said through clenched teeth. 

Morgan looked over at Reid, then at Kit, and then shrugged a bit.

“Sniffling?”

“Yes, you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” she reasoned, coming down a bit. She’d evened her eyes, but there was obviously still tension in her shoulders. 

“I haven’t. Maybe it’s allergies,” he suggested, not giving her time to tell him that Reid  _ didn’t have  _ seasonal allergies before he called, “Yo, Reid?”

Reid looked up at his name being said louder, eyes snapping to Morgan. They turned quickly to Kit, then back to Morgan again, as if he was trying to piece together the reason he was being called into the conversation. Neither of them gave much to go off of.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have allergies?”

Reid looked puzzled by the question, looking again from Morgan, to Kit, and back again. Slowly, he shook his head, as if the question had thrown him completely. Kit knew what he was probably thinking.  First of all, it was winter in DC. What could he be allergic to if nothing was blooming? Secondly, Kit would have known that. She’d read all their medical files.

“No,” he looked at Kit, deadpanning, “You know that.” 

Kit’s eyes narrowed slightly, a bit of tension coming back to her. She'd seen that coming, and there was nothing challenging about Reid’s tone. It was obvious that he didn’t mean any harm. He was confused. 

And Kit  _ did _ know that, of course, as she’d read their files so many times through she could probably recite them backwards. That didn’t make his lack of social grace any more tactful. 

If anything, his blunt statement just pissed her off all over again.

“We were just wondering, kid,” Morgan assured quickly, glancing when Kit shifted in posture. She didn’t need him to back her up, not if she was willing to stand up to Gideon, and he didn’t know her  _ that  _ well.

The confusion flooding from both men was enough to make her swallow back her frustration and take a breath. If Reid was a habitual sniffler, she could get over it. Some people just did that. And the social grace, or lack-there-of? She could get over that too.

_ It’s not a big deal, Dakota, cut him some slack. Ever since that night at the metro station you’ve been so paranoid and on edge. You aren’t like that. You’ve dealt with loads of people way less tactful than this. Leave him be and get a grip of yourself. What would Ari say? _

Reid, strangely enough, didn’t respond. He waited a moment, then shrugged and gave a wary look Kit’s way before picking his book back up and burying his nose in it once again.

Things were quiet a moment before Morgan leaned forward in his desk, setting his eyes on the red head with her face in her hands.

She’d deflated, relenting to the confusion and the frustration internally, rather than pushing it outward.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?”

Morgan’s voice was quiet and passive, not wanting to pry. 

Kit sighed just as softly, taking a second before looking up at him and giving a half-hearted shrug. She could stay calm. Morgan was being nice despite her weird mood swing, and she wasn’t going to freak out. 

_ Save the big feelings for home. When you see Ari tonight, you can lose it. _

“It’s really distracting,” she offered, “I need to finish these notes if we’re going to have that health meeting on Wednesday, and the meeting has to happen so I can turn in the paperwork to Ramos. Plus, this paperwork from the case I wasn’t even on is taking forever. I don’t want to get in trouble. I want to fly under the radar.”

Morgan seemed to consider that for a moment before he dropped his voice.

“You’re fine, Kit.”

She focused fully on his words. Morgan hadn’t used her name in days, opting for “Lep” over either of her names.

“Trust me, Hotch would sign off that we did it even if we didn’t. He hates those things even more than we do.”

“Not reassuring,” she said dryly, shaking her head not to disagree, but almost as if to shake the idea off. “And no way. This is a pilot position for the whole bureau. I’m not looking to get in trouble with like, the Director or something. I’m fine, I’ll ignore it.”

Morgan didn’t look quite convinced, his mind obviously flashing the image of her smacking her desk not five minutes ago, but she nodded at him. After taking a breath, she let a small smile cross her lips.

“I’m fine.”

* * *

Morgan left her alone after that, turning to his own stack of files. Thankfully, after purposefully blocking Reid out, Kit was able to focus on her notes. She actually was able to focus so well that she nearly jumped out of her chair when a light hand gave her a bit of a shake on the shoulder. 

She’d never admit to it, but she might have yelped. Just a little.

“Sorry,” came a rasp that Kit couldn’t pair with one of the BAU team members immediately. 

When she looked up and around for her attacker she was surprised. Reid was standing there looking sheepish, his hands twisting gently around each other in front of him.

“Hotch called for us… twice. I figured you didn’t hear him. You know, since you’re reading.”

Kit stared at him for a moment, her eyebrows coming together as she looked at him closely.

He was sort of… pale? Except his cheeks, and the tip of his nose, which were more than a barely noticeable red. Unfortunately for him, Kit was trained to notice. He was also giving off wave after wave of exhaustion, and judging by the dark circles under his eyes, it went bone deep. Everything about him, including the scarf draped around his neck in the not-super-cold bullpen screamed “I feel like garbage, please take me out,” and despite her almost outburst earlier that morning, she was a nurse first. She could be a person with pet peeves and frustrations later.

She’d been shaken out of her hyperfocus, but she was zoned back in now, quick to recognize the failing health of the youngest member of the team. Everything in her settled easily into her calm, gentle professionalism. Whatever the BAU was doing to her was exactly what she’d worked so hard to push down and away, and whatever Gideon had seen was something she was determined not to let him see again. 

This, the stillness she suddenly possessed, was how others would describe her. In the clinic, this was who she was. Calm. Quiet. Focused. If there was something she was good at, this was it. 

But before she could even begin to speak, Reid narrowed his eyes, physically pulling away from her.

“We don’t profile each other,” he said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and looking anywhere but her eyes. He cleared his throat in a way that was trying to be inconspicuous, but didn’t get past Kit in the slightest. 

“I’m not a profiler,” she said gently, as if she hadn’t been glaring daggers at him a few hours before. Everything about this second interaction was different. She would have pressed again, but any chance of that was dashed when Hotch leaned out of the conference room, a wave of frustration hitting Kit as if she’d been punched in the chest.

“Reid. Colghain. Now.”

It wasn’t half a second before they were both moving towards the stairs, Reid getting there significantly faster. He had at least ten inches on Kit, she guessed, and a lot of it was leg.

Once they were seated, Reid settled by JJ, and Kit in between Hotch and Elle, a video started on the screen. Kit glanced down at the file in her space and sighed before her eyes flicked back up, watching as a man, Mr. Fisher, answered questions from a detective.

“State trooper took this before the paramedics showed up. He's unconscious, has four broken bones. He's gonna be in the hospital for a month,” the detective was saying once Kit finally got her focus on his words. Her breath caught as she very quickly realized that she’d be going with them. The file should have been the tip, but Hotch’s urgency made sense now.

“I didn't hurt my son,” Mr. Fisher answered.

“You remember removing the tire iron from the trunk?”

“No! No!”

“What's the last thing you remember?”

“I picked Eric up from school. Friday, for the weekend. What day is this?”

_ Shit. _

Hotch paused the video, starting to speak in the even voice he always took when addressing a new case. 

“This happened two days ago in Beachwood, New Jersey. Mr. Fisher had ingested LSD one afternoon and didn't come down until eighteen hours later.”

“The hospital reported six other patients who ingested LSD in the last twenty four hours. The hospital called the CDC, the CDC called us,” JJ continued, turning towards the rest of the team as she spoke.

Morgan sat up straighter, leaning a bit into the table. “So, a bunch of people got spiked. What makes it a BAU case?”

“They each received 10 to 20 times the normal dose,” Hotch said, tone never wavering.

Kit felt the breath she’d been holding leave her in a bit too loud of an exhale, causing everyone to turn their eyes her way. She looked around a moment before her leg started to bounce under the table. She didn't speak in the conference room, not during the two other briefings she'd been a part of, but she found the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.

“We used to see a lot of LSD trips when I was doing my clinicals, but nothing even close to that high. That’s-”

“It's enough to kill a small child.” Reid inserted himself into her sentence. She didn’t seem to notice, clearly deep in thought.

“Or,” Elle added, “cause a grown man to kill him with a tire iron.”

JJ looked up from her file, turning back to the screen and playing a separate video.

“Of the seven victims, there was one death and one coma. This is from the hospital's security footage the same night Fisher lost it.”

The screen flooded with the image of an ER hallway. There were nurses everywhere, and patients taking up the space they weren’t. People were in wheelchairs and there was a man on a gurney. It was chaos.

Kit hummed quietly. It wasn’t the first overrun ER she’d seen. She’d worked in an ER that was busy, often more busy than they were ready for at any given moment. Still, she didn’t know if she’d seen a hallway packed that full, or that many doctors and nurses working towards one event. 

“That kind of environment is... panic,” she said. She felt Hotch shift next to her, but she didn’t stop her thought. She looked around the table, seeing that all eyes were back on her. All except Gideon. She took a moment before shrugging. While her voice was small, she wasn’t going to shy away from sharing what she knew. Serial killers were the team's specialty. Drugs and comas and hospitals? Those were her’s.

“There isn’t much space for anything else. Look at the nurses, their body language. They don’t know what they’re looking at, and it’s chaos around them. They’re as scared as those people are.”

There was a moment when everyone was quiet again, but it didn’t last long. Gideon leaned on the back of the chair next to Reid, which he had yet to occupy, and looked up towards the center of the table. 

“These people didn't get spiked,” he said simply. “These people were poisoned.”

“Morgan?” Kit called as they left the conference room, her file clutched in her hand. They were grabbing their go bags and heading to the air strip as quickly as they could, but she wanted to make sure she spoke to him. “Hey, Morgan!” 

He turned, his gobag in his hand, and responded quickly. “Lep, we’ve gotta go.”

“I know, I know, here, let me just-” She grabbed her coat and threw it over her cardigan before slinging her backpack around her shoulders. With her free hand she grabbed her gobag, hustling the few steps to where Morgan stood. “I wanted to talk to you before we get on the jet.”

“Alright,” he said, walking to the glass doors at a pace she scrambled to match. He was nearly as tall as Reid, and both Elle and JJ were fairly tall. Not to mention Hotch. Gideon was only a bit shorter than the other men, and standing at five-foot-three-inches had never bothered her until she’d started working with giants.

When they’d loaded into the elevator they were the only ones. The others had gone ahead, and Reid had been still grabbing his bag and pulling his scarf back around his neck. Kit hadn’t even noticed that he’d shed it before they’d raced in for the briefing.

“I, um,” Kit started haphazardly, “I wanted to apologize.”

Morgan turned to look at her as her ears started to burn, the entirety of her face and neck bright red. He was confused, she could feel it, which made it worse.

She’d waited way too long.

“Apologize for what?”

“For when I snapped at you. On the jet on the way to Wilmington,” she started talking rapidly, needing to explain her apology and get the anxiety off her chest. She had thought about it every morning when she saw him at the track, but it never seemed like the appropriate time to bring up her slightly explosive outburst.

As they headed to board the jet again, she knew it had to be right then. She didn’t have a free hand to worry at her braids, but her knee bounced where they stood in the elevator.

“It was incredibly unprofessional, and rude, especially because you were just being polite. I get really weird about attention and I try to fly under the radar as much as I can, especially now, and I should have thanked you but instead I snapped at you. Which wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I should have been focused on the team but I was focused on the file, and I know I shouldn’t do that because I can’t hear when I read and-”

“Woah, woah, hey. Hey.”

Morgan’s free hand was up, concern flooding off of him. His eyebrows were pulled tightly together, the worry evident as she started to spiral out of control. Kit had kept pretty quiet, other than her apparent tiff with Gideon, so other than that one time, he hadn't seen her lose control before. She didn't want him to again, but she was starting to go further than she'd accounted for when she started her very-rambly apology.

“You’re fine, Kit. You already apologized when we were on the jet," Morgan assured.

_ Bless the patience of this man _ _._

“I know,” she said quickly, shifting the file in her hand so it couldn’t slip to the floor as her bouncing knee jostled her top half. “But it was only half an apology. My mam always said that half an apology might as well be no apology at all. So… I’m sorry.”

She was clearly really worked up over the whole event, and the last thing she needed was to board the jet as a shambled mess. The numbered days since she'd first met Morgan accidentally at the track had been nice, and if she showed up a wreck it would only give Gideon more ammunition against her, anyway.

They stood in silence for a moment before Morgan let himself nod. 

“I accept your apology, and I forgive you,” he said simply.

The relief that spread across Kit’s face was immediate. The tension seemed to leave her shoulders, if just for a moment, and as the elevator dinged on the bottom floor and they stepped out, she knew Morgan didn’t miss her wistful glance towards the hallway that would lead back to the clinic.

Kit sat next to Morgan on the jet, deciding not to hide away from the team as she had on the first case. Reid had already been sitting in the seat across from her when she sat down, and she didn’t miss the hesitant look in his eyes when she peered a little too closely.

He was sick, there was no doubt in her mind about that, but she could tell by the warriness he was giving off that she shouldn't push it. He’d already made it obvious he didn’t appreciate her clinical stare. It was her job to worry about the health of the team, and according to her list of responsibilities, it was also her job to fix them. 

She wasn’t sure Reid was going to even get close to admitting anything to her. They weren’t even sort of friends, like she was with Morgan. She didn’t think anyone on the team would consider her a friend, and she didn’t consider them that way either, but of the six team members she’d met she’d spoken the least to Reid. The metro interaction at the red line stop had really thrown her. Ari had suggested she just ask him about it, like she would do easily if it was one of her clinic nurses, but she’d insisted that he didn’t understand. 

Spencer Reid was, in her eyes, an enigma. While his medical file had boasted an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, she hadn’t really grasped what that meant until he was rattling off statistic after statistic during the Billie Copeland case. He was awkward and unassuming and could read faster than she thought possible. He rambled unceasingly and had an obvious attachment to Gideon. 

Kit didn’t want to get within ten feet of it. He had probably already figured out her ADHD if he watched at all the way she either fidgeted and bounced, or was locked in like a homing beacon. She didn’t need to have him give Gideon any other reasons not to trust her.

Because he didn’t. He’d seen trouble in her eyes, and she knew it was going to be almost impossible to change his mind.

JJ brought her out of her own head, reaching over top of her to deposit a picture of an elderly woman onto the table between them all. 

“Of the seven victims, Gail Norman was the only death. She was seventy eight. Ran out into the middle of the road, and she was hit by a car. She was DOA.”

Hotch set down another photo on their table, this one of a young girl. Kit’s heart ached as she figured out the gist before he even spoke. 

“The other potentially fatal case is nine year old Brittany Canon. She fell out of a tree house and fractured her skull. She's in a coma and the doctors don't know if she's going to come out of it.”

“How do you wanna handle the press?” Gideon asked JJ.

“We still don't even know how these people got dosed. I think it would be irresponsible to issue a warning without specifics. It'll just cause panic. I did notify the local PD, though, to be discreet. 

“How is it possible that none of these people knew how they got poisoned?” Morgan asked, and his body turned slightly towards Kit. 

She was glad Hotch spoke up, because if he was looking for her to answer him, she hadn’t had an answer.

“None of them remembers anything about the day it happened.”

“These people were so messed up, it's made it difficult for local PD to retrace the victim's steps,” JJ supplied.

_ Messed up would be the lightest possible way to say it. Those people could easily be dead. _

“So, we need to go on precedent,” Gideon said, causing the table to shift and face him. “We know there are four types of poisoners who target multiple victims.”

“There's the True Believer, the political terrorist-slash-religious cult,” Hotch said.

“There's the Extortionist,” Morgan added, “The product tamperer holds the business hostage in exchange for money.”

“Or the Prankster,” Elle offered, “Usually a younger offender who doesn't mean any harm, and it's basically just a big practical joke.”

“And the Avenger,” Hotch finished, “someone with a personal vendetta who chooses poison as their weapon.”

“We need to find out as quickly as possible which type he is, because with the exception of the prankster, all these types commonly test their poison on a small scale before appearing at a larger attack,” Gideon said, seeming to sum it all up. 

Kit was pretty sure that the rest of the team knew that, but knew he was doing it for her sake. That also meant the team knew he was doing it for her sake, and the thought was embarrassing. She could hold her own. She was smart. She definitely didn’t need Gideon treating her like everything had to be explained.

“Then, let's hope this one was just a prank,” she said quietly, flipping her file open and gazing at the medical records of the victims. There were several, and for a moment she wished she’d ignored their talk of Extortionists and Avengers in favor of busying herself to read them in the walled off silence her mind created.

“I would suggest we split up the victims, see if there's a pattern in the victimology,” Gideon said.

“Most of them are still in the hospital,” Hotch offered, “I'll call local PD to meet us there.”

“I'll check the lab reports. Maybe there's a clue to the unsub's motive in the specific nature of the poison he used,” Reid said, his words directed mostly towards Hotch. 

Hotch sighed before saying, “I can't imagine anybody could want this to happen.” There was a moment before he added. “Take Colghain with you.”

Reid’s reaction was raspy and immediate. 

“Sir?”

“Me?” Kit said, the shaking of her leg stilling for a moment in surprise.

Hotch looked between the two and nodded, gesturing to Kit and the files in her hands.

“There could be something in the chemical makeup that reacted differently in different victims. Plus, Colghain’s expertise is exactly why she’s on this case. We’re using everything we have.”

There was silence for a moment, the air thick with tension as emotions started to scramble. Kit took a breath, sorting them and not allowing them to break her calm, but she was surprised herself. Of course, lab reports, chemical readings, all those things were second nature to her. Hotch calling anything her “expertise” in front of the rest of the team? That was what had surprised her. It helped to settle the feelings of inadequacy that bubbled when they were profiling, and she couldn't have been more grateful.

She was valuable. Hotch said that she was the right person for this job.

“Have you read a toxicology report before?” Reid asked her. His tone was straightforward, and Kit had to bite her lip to not react sarcastically.

“Yes, I’ve read plenty.”

“And you understand the slight differences in the compounds used in different strains of LSD?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And-”

“Reid,” Hotch said firmly. The doctor looked over, and Hotch’s still face gave no room for disagreement. “Agent Colghain is equipped for this case.”

It was only a moment of awkward silence before Reid slumped back in his chair, arms crossed over his frame again. It was another entirely awkward forty minutes until they touched down in New Jersey.

_ Great, this is going well. Gideon is wary of me, Reid doesn’t think I’m capable, and Hotch has had to come to my rescue on the only two cases I’ve been on. What else could this position hold? _

* * *

“This can’t be right,” Kit said quietly. She and Reid were looking over the lab reports, as ordered, and up to that point they had barely spoken to one another. As Kit put one report behind another and scanned again, she worried her lip between her teeth.

No PCP. Nothing that would normally cause violence. The LSD they were dosed with looked, as far as LSD went, relatively normal. But there was something that caught her eye and made her head tilt in consideration.

She looked up to address it with Reid, but stopped dead in her tracks at the look of him.

He had his eyes shut, a hand gently massaging at his temple, though it didn’t seem as if it was helping whatever headache he was willing away. Somehow he looked even more tired, even more pale, and the sniffling hadn’t stopped.

It took her a moment to speak. She and Reid didn’t talk. They weren’t friends. But this was her job.

_ Here goes nothing. _

“How long have you been feeling like that?”

His eyes fluttered open and he blinked at her before his head shook quickly, posture shifting so he stood up straighter.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Right,” she said, though her tone was gentle. “So you aren’t sick, then?”

“I’m fine.”

Kit’s eyes lit up at that, and Reid’s eyebrows drew together. She knew she had him, she just had to present her case perfectly.

She wasn’t a profiler. That didn’t matter to her, though. She could read them all better than they thought. And if she was reading correctly, especially after watching their last poker game on the jet, Reid couldn’t resist.

“Oh,” she said, letting a small smile work onto her face. “That’s my favorite game.”

Confusion overtook exhaustion, and she watched as he couldn’t help himself. She’d guessed correctly. Reid liked games.

“What?”

“My favorite game. ‘I’m fine.’ We play it in the clinic all the time. And you, Doctor Reid, are going to play it with me.”

He shifted his weight, one of his hands rubbing along his misplaced scarf. It wasn’t cold in the lab, yet he was trembling ever so slightly.

“It’s not really the time to play a game. We’ve got people poisoned and-”

Reid cut himself off by coughing into his elbow, turning away from her just a bit. Exhaustion seeped back into the room, and she raised an eyebrow at him when he got his composure back.

“Right,” she said again, “Anyway. This is how you play. If you say ‘I’m fine’ when someone asks if you’re sick, the game starts. The asker,” she nodded, “in this case that’s me, gets to guess five symptoms. If I get more than half, I win, and you have to relent.”

He sniffled and tilted his head. She could feel him weighing his options.

“And if you lose?”

“I relent, and you’re allowed to pretend you’re fine. I won’t say another word, and these tox screens will be my sole focus.”

They were seemingly at a stalemate. Kit held the lab reports in her hands still, and Reid cleared his throat before wincing. 

_ This is going to be so easy. _

“More than half?”

“Three out of five,” she assured, keeping her tone casual and gentle and not at all the way it had been this morning when she was seething to Morgan about his sniffling. 

She could feel guilty about that later. In that moment, she was focused on winning a very winnable round of ‘I’m fine.’

He crossed his arms a bit tighter over his chest, letting the scarf fall out of his grip and hang to the side.

“Okay, go ahead.”

Reid would later come to realize he should have noted the shift in her eyes as the figurative nail in his figurative coffin. 

“I’ll let you know that you shouldn’t lie. I’ll know. I always know.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said evenly, the rasp growing slightly deeper as they spoke. 

That was all Kit needed.

“Well then. Let’s play. Sore throat, definitely, unless you suddenly picked up a smoking habit,” she started, feeling as his emotions flooded from annoyed to desperate. 

_ One. _

“And you’re congested. The sniffling gave you away. It was driving me crazy earlier, but I was hoping you were just a habitual sniffler.”

“I  _ am _ ,” he said, tugging at his scarf again. 

“That’s worse,” she assured, “Because that means when whatever this is runs its course, it won't go away and I’ll still have to listen to it.” She sighed, feeling a bit of her own dread at that, but continued, “But your nose is red and raw looking, so I can assure you that you’re congested.”

She raised an eyebrow at him then, a small smile playing at her lips. The files she was holding were set down in favor of one fiddling with the hem of her cardigan, and the other playing with the end of her right braid.

“How am I doing?”

Reid’s eyebrows pulled together as he gave off a wave of skepticism. She grinned wider.

_ Two. _

“This is pointless,” he said quietly, now avoiding her eyes.

“That means I’m winning. You’ve got a headache. Right behind your temples. Not stemming from the front and spreading like you’re assuming, because that’s the congestion. The actual headache comes from further back.”

No response.

_ Three. _

“I’d bet you’ve got a fever. The flush in your cheeks is really prominent against how pale you are, plus I’m sure you know you’re shaking. And you’re exhausted. The fatigue coming off of you is palpable.”

She didn’t offer anything else, watching for him to respond to her. She’d made her five ‘guesses,’ though she knew all five were true of him. He was probably dizzy too, unless that wasn’t the reason he was grounding himself with his scarf. She  _ had _ been wrong before, of course. She wasn’t a mind reader.

Reid took a full thirty seconds before his arms dropped, posture slipping slightly.

_ Four and five. _

He looked defeated in a sad sort of way, and for the first time, Kit found herself actually caring about Spencer Reid past the fact that she was sort of responsible for him. He had no social grace, he was a know-it-all, and he was Gideon’s obvious pet project. But now? As he stood in front of her looking young and sad and unwell? She found a soft spot for him. 

“So?” she coaxed, tilting her head just so. “How’d I do?”

He let out what sounded suspiciously like a whine before running a hand down his face.

“You know, I always win when we play games as a team.”

“Maybe poker,” she shrugged, “but this is my game. My… what did Hotch call it? My expertise?” It was definitely a light effort at teasing, something she did with academy cadets when they were in the clinic. Still, she might have put a little more meaning behind her words. Reid underestimated her, and now, she was going to have a little bit of a victory.

He rolled his eyes at her before scrunching his nose, sniffling dejectedly.

“Okay, message received. You win.” He ran a hand down his face again, and Kit noted that his hands were shaking a bit. “So what? You pull me off the case? Am I  _ grounded _ ?”

Something in his tone gave way to bitterness, and Kit shook her head slowly, an eyebrow raising.

“No? Has that happened before?”

“Last year,” he said, but didn’t offer anymore. There was hesitation, and while Kit didn’t want to pry, she figured right now was the only time she was really in a position to get any information. They weren’t friends. When was she going to have him this open again?

“And it bothered you?”

“It bothers me when I’m treated like a child that doesn’t know their own limits.” He shifted his feet a bit, and when she didn’t answer right away he pulled his arms across his chest again.

_ Defensive. He thinks I’m going to treat him like a baby. _

“Well I’m not a peds nurse, and I’ve never been one, so as long as you don’t  _ act _ like a child, I won’t treat you like one.” She watched his face for a moment until he dipped his head, worry seeping from his being. He didn’t believe her, that much was clear. Why would he? They didn’t know each other. 

It wasn’t long before Kit was making a choice. Probably not one she was allowed to make, but one she was going to make anyway. She was hired in part for her bedside manor, so the way she treated them was going to be on her terms. If anyone had a problem, she would have no problem defending herself and her decisions.

“I’m not going to tell Hotch, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried,” he rasped, his eyes coming up to meet hers. He was squinting, tongue darting over his lips.

“Yes you are,” she said, avoiding his gaze to pull her medical pack off her belt and pull at the zipper. “And I mean it. I’m not going to tell Hotch if you just do what I tell you. I’ll keep it discreet.”

She dug her hand inside, fishing for a moment before pulling out a pack of bright orange capsules. A small hum of victory escaped her, glad that the object of her search was in the pack and not back in the SUV, nestled into her backpack. A small victory is a victory all the same.

“Okay,” she started, “here’s the deal. You’re going to take these, and then,” she pulled out a travel size pack of tissues, “you’re going to keep these in your pocket. And if you feel worse, you’re going to tell me.”

She nodded as she finished, waiting for him to respond.

He squinted at her further. “And?”

“What do you mean, ‘and’? And I'll give you more pills later? I’ve got a bunch in my backpack. I don’t have a whole water bottle in here, but this is a hospital, and I’m a nurse. I’ll find one.”

“Wait,” he said, a certain amount of relief flooding off of him, “You’re really not going to tell Hotch?”

She shook her head seriously, not sure what about her tone or demeanor made her unbelievable.

“I said I wouldn’t.”

“But, why?”

“Because,” she said with sincerity, looking right into his eyes. “I, too, know what it’s like to be treated unfairly because of my age. I’m one of the clinic’s head nurses, and I’m twenty five. Last Thursday I was questioned about my ability to do this job and that one at the same time, and my age was the biggest argument. You're not the only one that hates being treated like a child."

Something shifted a bit in his eyes, the smallest whisper of a grin falling on his lips. 

“You’re twenty five?”

“Have been since June. I’m surprised you didn’t assume I was younger. My sister Ginny always says that I could pass for sixteen.”

He shook his head a little too quickly, noticeably wincing. 

“You could, I guess I just thought they would have picked someone older, like in their thirties.” There was a moment before he offered, “I’m twenty four.”

“I know. You said it earlier, right? I’ve read your file.”

For the first time maybe ever, his eyes softened at her. Guilt flooded the air, and he worried at his bottom lip.

“Right. Sorry about that. I was trying to-”

“Play it off like you weren’t sick and hope I wouldn’t notice.”

“Yeah.”

She found herself chuckling, shaking her head at the idea that she wouldn’t have noticed. As if it wasn’t her job to notice.

“Well, like I said in the bullpen, I’m not a profiler. I am a nurse, though, so assume I’ll always notice.” She held out the blister pack of pills and the tissues. “Here, I’ll go find my way to a water bottle. Take another look at those tox screenings. I saw something… weird.”

Kit turned and was halfway out the door before she heard him call her name.

“Dakota?”

She blinked for a moment. There were very few people in the world that called her by her first name. 

_ Pick your battles. _

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

She smiled at him, a real smile too, and nodded.

“Of course. Be right back.” She moved to step out of the door.

“Dakota?”

She took a breath.

“Yes, Spencer?”

“What exactly did you think you saw buried in the tox screen?”

She thought for a moment before giving her braid a tug, mind starting to pull away as she remembered back to the reports.

“I might have been mistaken.”

He nodded her forward, saying, “But what did you think it was?”

She shrugged, feeling her eyebrows pulling together as she looked up at him.

“Rohypnol.”

* * *

Kit and Reid walked into the hallway when they heard Gideon passing about an hour later. She’d found a water bottle with the help of one of the women at the nurses’ station, and Reid looked decidedly more with it. He was less pale for sure, and there was an energy he didn’t have before as they trailed behind the rest of the team.

“Well,” Gideon was saying of Mr. Fisher, “he's raw, broken, and seriously pissed off.”

“He didn't hurt the son to get back at the mother?” Hotch asked, and Gideon shook his head.

“Not consciously, no. Rage was real but understandable, and he never apologized. When he lost control, he didn't even say, "Eric, I'm sorry." He said, "Eric, why'd this happen to you?" He never even confessed to hurting the kid.”

Hotch thought about that for a moment. 

“So, the drugs tapped into the rage but didn't cause it?”

“That's my guess.”

The two men and Elle slowed to a stop, causing Kit and Reid to swing around the side. Their group formed a sort of circle in the hallway, blocking traffic if any were to come. 

Normally Kit would have asked them to move, but the information they had was pressing.

Reid spoke for the pair of them, sounding congested still, and a little rough, but definitely better than before.

“That's consistent with the information we just received from the lab tox screens. They didn't find any trace of PCP or any other drug indicating the unsub was intentionally trying to make people violent. But they did find traces of rohypnol in all the victims.”

“A central nervous system depressant,” Kit filled for the sake of Hotch’s wave of confusion. “Similar to valium, only ten times more potent.”

Elle nodded, adding, “It's commonly known as a "roofie" or a date-rape drug.”

“Right, and one of its side effects is amnesia, which explains why none of the victims remember how they were poisoned,” Reid finished.

“We compared notes on the victims we talked to. So far there doesn't seem to be any pattern as to who got hit. Maybe the drugs themselves could explain what type of offender we're dealing with.” Morgan shrugged a bit as he explained. “A lot of kids are using LSD and rohypnol these days. Fisher is a high school teacher.”

“So it may be a prank after all,” Gideon said, now learning against the wall. 

“Yeah, one that went horribly wrong,” was all Hotch offered.

Elle suddenly pulled her coat around herself, nearly knocking Kit in the temple with her elbow as she did so. 

“I'm gonna get a list of students from Fisher, I’ll see you later."

Hotch’s phone rang just as she left. He looked disinterested in answering it, but did so as he looked around at them.

“Hotch. Okay, we'll be right there.” He shut the phone without saying goodbye, looking up at them with new interest. “Cops may have figured out where everybody was dosed.”

He started off down the hallway, speaking as he did so. 

“Gideon and I will go with JJ to the possible lead. Morgan, do some more digging with Elle on the high school kids. Reid, Colghain, stay here and work victimology again. There has to be something we’re missing.”

The way they moved was fluid, all turning to go to different places without hesitation.

Kit and Reid took off down a hallway, Kit glancing around at placards before she grinned,

“Aha!” she cried, yanking the handle open and coming face to face with a pseudo conference room. She turned to Reid, handing over the tox screen reports she was still holding. “Here’s these. I’ll track down the head nurse on rotation and see if their files have any more information than the ones I was given by JJ.”

He nodded, settling down immediately and starting to fan out the reports into categories she figured only he knew the rhyme or reason for.

Kit took off into the maze of the hospital feeling comfortable and confident. This is what she was good at, and for the moment things weren’t uncomfortable with Reid. And Gideon hadn’t given her a look of annoyance when they were talking about the rohypnol. 

_ Things could be looking up, Dakota. You’re helpful after all. _

* * *

It was hours later when half the team found themselves in the viewers part of the interrogation room back at the local precinct. Kit had never been on either side of the glass before, and it was strange for her to know that the interviewee couldn’t see them as they all stared inside.

The cafe had proved fruitful in getting the name of a local high school kid, and Elle had been more fruitful in getting the kid himself. 

Hotch, Gideon, Reid, Morgan, and Kit were standing and watching Elle and Detective Hanover as they grilled the kid, Danny Wallace, but it wasn’t proving as fruitful as the rest of the day had been. 

As he described the fact that he and his girlfriend actually had  _consensual_ sex before she was ‘freaking out’ was looking less like he was the unsub, and more like he was consoling a victim in need.

“Look,” Danny said to Elle, “she was on something, and if it was acid or something, I've taken that. You give that to someone without telling them, it doesn't exactly set the mood.”

Morgan spoke from his position in the back of the room, attention pulling away from the other side of the glass.

“Kid is right about that. If he wanted to slip her a date rape drug, why'd he give her LSD, too?”

“This boy seems too scared  _ not  _ to be telling us the truth,” Reid agreed, crossing his arms over himself. He’d taken the scarf off as the pills had taken effect earlier on, but Kit knew he was due for some again soon.

She hadn’t told Hotch, just like she’d promised, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t keeping tabs on Reid the rest of the case.

“So, Samantha was just the eighth victim and the boyfriend working in the cafe was just a coincidence,” Hotch said, discouragement written in the air.

“But, even so, there may be an explanation why the two drugs: LSD to hallucinate and rohypnol to forget,” Gideon said, ever the optimist. 

“Forget what?” Kit asked before she could stop herself. Her tone wasn’t challenging like it had been in Curtis’s house, and the look Gideon gave her was searching, but not suspicious.

Morgan responded to her, but in the form of a question himself.

“What they were hallucinating?”

“No,” Gideon said, moving his eyes to Morgan, “how they got dosed.”

“Then, the unsub's covering his tracks. It's much too organized for a high school prank,” Hotch agreed, shifting into the conversation. 

“And there still hasn't been any kind of ransom demand,” Morgan said, not following Hotch’s lead, instead choosing to stay in the back of the room. 

Kit was officially not helpful anymore, watching as the men went back and forth, whittling down their possible poisoning precedents. 

“Which rules out the Extortionist,” Reid said.

“Or any visible political group or cult in the area,” Hotch continued.

Morgan picked up, “Which rules out the True Believer.”

“And leaves us with the Avenger,” Reid finished. 

There was a moment in which Kit looked around and felt awe. These men all knew exactly what they were talking about. It seemed as if they had one hive mind, working together to solve as many pieces of the puzzle as quickly as they could. 

She wished for a moment she could do the same, but was quick to scold herself.

_ If you were a profiler, you would work for the BAU. Monty and Ari both told you a million times, Dakota, you’re there because you’re different. Come off the self pity for a moment and let go of your ego. _

Hotch looked around at them, even Kit, and nodded.

“We can give them a profile.”

Kit looked down at her watch and raised an eyebrow. It was nearly nine, and while she didn’t want to be the one to ask or challenge, especially with Gideon right there, she said quietly, “Now? It’s almost nine.”

Gideon’s eyes bore into her and he turned towards her as he said, “Do you think the unsub cares what time it is?”

Her subconscious wanted to glance at Reid, knowing he needed to sleep. Knowing they  _ all _ needed to sleep if they were going to be mentally sharp enough to catch the unsub Gideon was talking about.

She didn’t know why it was so easy for her to challenge Gideon, but she felt the annoyance of his dismissal swirl in her chest.

“No, of course not,” she said evenly, not allowing anything in her tone to indicate her annoyance, “but people are in their homes by now, sleeping, and odds are if he was going to poison someone else today, he would have already done it, right?”

Before Gideon could respond, probably to dismiss her, Hotch spoke in his ‘unit chief’ voice.

“Agreed. We’ll give the profile first thing in the morning. I’ll have Hanover gather his men early. For now, let's go back to the hotel. Gideon, you take Morgan and Elle. I’ll take Reid and Colghain, and we’ll grab JJ on our way out.”

For exactly one moment, Kit thought Gideon was going to disagree. Then, he didn’t. He simply put his hands in his pockets and nodded at Morgan.

“Go get Elle and meet out front in five.”

They moved quickly, Kit and Reid walking behind Gideon and Hotch as they marched through the precinct. Kit could have sworn she heard Gideon say something like “see, right there” and “eyes,” but she couldn’t really tell. Not with Reid mouth-breathing next to her. Either way, it was obvious Gideon was annoyed with her. They’d had such a good day in comparison to the end of the Billie Copeland case, and Kit found herself annoyed by the idea that he was now complaining about her to Hotch. She’d been quick to recognize there was something wrong with Reid, helped him without losing his thin trust,  _ and _ she’d been helpful in reading the tox screens and identifying the rohypnol. So why was her comment about the time and the probable rest of the unsub taken with such hostility?

She couldn’t sigh aloud, that would probably alert not only Reid, who was right beside her, but Hotch  _ and _ the man in question. She settled for letting her hands wander a bit, antsy now that her medication had started to wear off. She just hoped they didn’t notice that, either.

_ So much for things looking up, Dakota. Way to go. _


	5. The Devil in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After JJ, Reid, and Hotch learn a little more about Kit's family, the nurse-out-of-water feels the effects of the field crash over her. As she and Gideon continue to butt heads, she wonders how this is ever going to work. She's helpful in her own right, but if she can't get the respect and the support of the whole team, how will she ever belong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of a gap fill for 1x13, Poison.  
> TW for illness, hospitals, and drug mentions.
> 
> This took way longer to materialize than I anticipated, but here it is! As always, comments/questions/suggestions are welcome! Criticism too! Please, help me learn!

The ride to the hotel was comfortable enough. Reid and Kit sat in the back while JJ sat in the passenger seat, and the communications liaison took her chance to pick and pry when Kit couldn’t escape her questions. She’d been trying since the moment Kit had been shuffled onto their team, but Kit had been able to avoid it thus far. She hated ‘get to know you’ questions, as they reminded her of terrible high school teachers and their lack-luster ice breakers.

“So, Kit, do you have siblings?”

Kit nodded, though the woman couldn't see her. She’d play along, of course, and this was an easy question. She loved talking about her siblings.

“Oh, yeah. There’s nine of us.”

Reid made a sound next to her that sounded like choking, but when she looked he wasn’t dying. He was instead, astonished.

“Nine?”

“Yeah,” she said easily, “nine.”

Hotch knew that, he’d read her file, but he asked anyway, “What number are you?”

“Five,” Kit said before smiling, “sort of? There’s Wash, and then Ginny and Sease. Ari, and Monty, and I. Then George, and Alex, and Lina’s the baby.”

“That puts you sixth,” Reid said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Kit was suddenly ten years old.

_ Didn’t we just have a pseudo heart-to-heart about being treated like a child? _

Kit tried not to roll her eyes before she remembered that the only one who knew about Ari and Monty was Morgan. And, probably Hotch, of course.

“Ari and Monty and I are triplets,” she said evenly, “and technically, I was born second of the three of us.”

“Wow,” JJ said, “triplets? I can’t imagine what that would be like.”

“It’s great, actually,” Kit assured, not being able to stop the spreading smile on her face. “We get along really well. Monty and I are actually monozygotic twins, which means-”

“Monozygotic twins, often called identical twins, are the result of one egg fertilized by one sperm that experiences postzygotic division.”

Reid’s voice was rougher than before, telling of the fact that the medicine she’d given him had worn off, as he effectively cut her off. She tried not to take offense at him interrupting her and telling her about her  _ own  _ fetal development. He’d interrupted others in several conversations. Regardless, she felt her lips tug into a frown.

“Exactly. My gran used to say that Monty and I have twin souls, though my mam and dad have always said that Ari was one half of the soul, and we were the other half, you know, together.”

JJ turned all the way around in her seat, grinning as she listened to Kit speak of her family.

“So, Ari and Monty are nicknames, right?”

Kit nodded again, frown dissipating.

“Right. My parents immigrated from Ireland, and they spoke Gaelic better than English. They wanted to stick out less, or so they say, so they, well,” she thought for a moment before she couldn’t stop the small giggle forcing its way up her throat. “They thought it would be a really good idea to name their kids after the states. Like, literal American states.”

“Like Dakota,” Hotch offered, and Kit wrinkled her nose. 

“Yeah, like Dakota. My family all call me Kody, but I prefer Kit.”

“And Monty is, what? Montana?” JJ asked, now looking determined. As if it was some kind of game.

Kit nodded again, saying, “Exactly. The thing is that some states, like thankfully Dakota,  _ are _ names. But some…” She shrugged lightly, “Not so much.”

“Can I guess?”

JJ, not surprising to Kit, was giving off a competitive energy that would rival the one she got off Morgan the few times they’d raced at the track.

“She could just tell us,” Reid offered, but JJ just scoffed.

“No way, Spence. You’re just afraid you’re going to lose.”

Reid narrowed his eyes at her, and though Kit could feel his slight trembling next to her, fever burning once again, she knew he wasn’t going to back down. He even gave her and JJ half a smirk before saying, “You’re on.”

In the end, it was Hotch that came up with a surprising upset. Reid was vehemently denying that ‘Sease’ was a nickname for Tennessee, and JJ was still upset that Reid won the “guess what number I’m thinking of” game and got to go first.

“No way that’s fair,” she’d complained when Reid gave a small, raspy noise of victory and guessed that Wash was short for Washington, obviously.

Hotch had gotten lucky and gone second, securing that George was actually Kit’s younger sister, Georgia, and had gotten that Lina was Carolina, the baby of their very large family.

“You went after Carolina right away, Hotch,” JJ said, laughing at Reid’s dejected mumbling. That was the second time he’d lost a game that day.

“Familiar territory.”

“Is that so?” Kit asked, raising an eyebrow at the stern man in the driver’s seat. “Did you work in their field office?”

“No, I worked in their Walmart,” he said simply, turning into the parking lot of their hotel. He didn’t add or give any more about it, and they didn’t pry, though Kit had to fight a grin at the idea that their stern unit chief could be secretly southern.

Hotch checked in and passed them their keys, Kit taking her’s with slightly wide eyes. She’d only stayed in a hotel a few times, and the idea that she was now left to her own devices in a hotel she’d never been in, in a state she didn’t know, really got her mind racing. She realized quickly that no one else was feeling the anxiety she was. They were all familiar with this, and it seemed to be easy for them to turn off the part of their brain that was working on the case.

Instead, she was running her brain, trying to think of anything she knew that could help them catch the unsub that was hurting these people. She dealt in people. People were her thing. People were the reason she had been assigned to the pilot position she was in. The reason she was in New Jersey when she could just as easily be home, getting ready for bed while she listened to Ari sing around their apartment as he got ready for his shift. 

They would give the profile. The team would give the profile and she would watch with JJ. She would try to help however she was asked, and she would keep an eye on Reid while being sensitive to not treat him like a child. 

She followed JJ and Reid up to their floor, Hotch having stayed to give the others their keys, and nodded and responded politely when JJ had wished her goodnight. Reid hadn’t done as much, though she had missed his attempt to get her attention before she’d closed her door behind her.

Once inside she drew what could have passed for her first real breath all day. Between Reid’s sniffling, apologizing to Morgan, the jet, the hospital, taking care of Reid without making him feel like a child, and tiptoeing around Gideon-  _ Which didn’t even work!  _ \- Kit was stretched too thin. With the door shut, the only emotions she could pick up on were her own. Which, honestly, we’re never just her own.

Ari and Monty called them Big Feelings;  _ them _ being the swelling and surging of her own emotions that were kept buried to grow as the day went on. She could tend to the needs of others and keep her own feelings in check, but the thing about Kit was that the more she dealt with others, the more the feelings being buried in her chest compounded. Try as she might, she couldn’t really differentiate between what she created herself and what she took from others. 

Most days were perfectly fine. It wasn’t like everyone around her was melting down simultaneously, every single day. But some days, when there’d been so much and there were so many people and so many situations, she absolutely crashed.

In retrospect, she held on for longer than she thought she would, the deep, even breaths she was drawing distracting her from the energy that built. Her fingers working to unzip her gobag. She pulled out her pajamas, shedding her jacket and cardigan before making her way to take a shower. 

She took out her contacts. Shed the rest of her clothes. Took her shower. Brushed her teeth. Braided her hair. 

She kept her breathing even through every motion, changing into her pajamas and settling cross legged on the bed. Her fingers of her right hand tapped lightly on her thigh while the fingers of her left pulled tightly at her braided, sopping wet hair. The right braid was dripping clean shower water onto her shoulder, the left sending a slow cascade of water down her arm. She sat for five minutes that way, breathing evenly, staring at the blurry white wall in front of her and willing herself not to crash. Not to crash. Not to crash.

And then, she crashed.

All at once, everything in her body felt like it was vibrating. Her breaths came in hitches that were shallow and choppy, her chest heaving sharply with each one. Nothing like the pace she’d been trying to keep for that last fifteen minutes. They sputtered and cut each other off, tears running down her cheeks and falling in large drops, adding to where her braids had already left dark wet spots on her pale yellow tee shirt. 

It wasn’t loud. It had never been loud, regardless of the way her mind seemed to be screaming. She was way too warm, warmer than she had been in the steaming water of the shower. Her chest ached with a flurry of feelings that flashed and passed so quickly she couldn’t hope to name them. It left her helpless, hands clenching and unclenching, fingers occasionally scratching up and down her arms or thighs. The emotional overload left her with internal mania and, other than her fingers roaming and tears flowing, external shutdown. She didn’t have to bury anymore. The emotional zombies of the last eighteen hours could come to light.

Ari always let her come down on her own time. Sometimes he held her tightly, and sometimes he left her to her own devices. Most of the time he stayed in the same space. On the couch opposite her. Sat at the kitchen table as she sat on the counter. Cross legged at the end of her bed. He didn’t try to have her put the thoughts or emotions into words. He didn’t press her or tell her it would be okay. That she was okay, because really, she wasn’t. He just let it pass. 

She knew it could be as short as ten minutes or as long as forty five. One time, an hour, but that was the first time she’d lost a patient. The time didn’t matter as much to her. Ten or sixty, the number of minutes always felt like an eternity. She didn’t know how long it would take this time, sat in a New Jersey hotel room. Especially when on top of everything else, she felt so completely alone.

As far as Kit was aware, it could have been seven minutes or seven hours when the thing that finally grounded her back to the real world was a steady three-wrap knock at her door. Her hands stilled instantly, the deepest breath she’d taken since the wave crashed over her almost making her dizzy. 

Her head swiveled towards the door, and it was a moment before her mind could catch up. She was in her hotel room. Someone was knocking on the door.

_ Get up and open it. Come on, Kody. Stand up and open the door. _

She swallowed thickly, wiping a shaking hand down her face. The bed was close to the door, and while she sat staring at the door, the knock came again. Three wraps in rapid succession. Her brain started to catch up, the distraction pulling her out of the waves she was drowning in.

_ Hotch? Could it be Hotch? Did someone actually get poisoned this late at night? Gideon was right, she shouldn’t have said anything. Now it was going to be her fault and there would be disappointment and anger and annoyance and- _

**_Stop._ **

It took longer than it should have for her to pull herself off of the mattress, shaking her head quickly as if to expel the internal debate. Everything in her chest told her not to get up, but her head won and allowed her to quickly scramble from her spot and pad across the room. 

In hindsight, she should have checked to make sure she didn’t look like a  _ complete _ disaster. She never had to worry about that at home, so it hadn’t crossed her mind how she might be perceived as she stood there; pajamas on, wet hair, flushed, tear tracks and red eyes against shaky pale skin. 

She squinted at the person on the other side of the door once she all but flung it open. Tall. Dark hair. Tee shirt. Skinny. To her untrained and straining eyes, she was unsure who she was looking at.

Before the other person could speak she held up her hand, still trembling, and turned to dig in her backpack. The glasses she pulled out were seldom used, but she had lost a contact on three separate occasions in the last year, and she wasn’t going to fly half-blind into a crisis. 

She turned, unceremoniously shoving the thin frames onto her face, and looked at her offender.

Spencer Reid. Pale as ever, clearly fever flushed, and looking at her with glassy-eyed concern.

“Are you crying?” is what he ended up asking before stifling a raspy coughing fit into his elbow. 

Kit narrowed her burning eyes at him, but there were no lasers in her stare. Confusion, and exasperation, but not the lasers she’d set on him all those hours before.

“Do you need something? I thought you went to bed.”

He cleared his throat and winced, swallowing as if it was physically painful before he came up with, “I did. I was. Um, I mean, I was try-trying to? I, um.” 

His hands came up to wring together at waist height, his eyes looking everywhere but at her.  _ Uncomfortable _ . He was uncomfortable. Probably from having come into her personal space where she was very obviously having a very private meltdown.

“You were trying to… oh.” It took longer for her to piece together than it should have. Her mind was still foggy, trying to stay above the waves she’d just been so jarringly pulled from. “You were trying to sleep and you couldn’t.”

“Yes,” he supplied quickly, “Because, well,” he sighed, a hand going to run through his hair. He curled his arms over his chest then, clearing his throat again. “Because my head is pounding and I’m freezing and my throat hurts. And the stuff you had earlier helped. And I was… I was wondering if-”

She did cut him off now, having been careful not to up to that point, but she could feel his discomfort growing the longer he tried to explain himself. He was struggling to be vulnerable, and she wasn’t going to make it worse by allowing him to trip over himself longer than necessary.

“If I had more.”

“Yes.” 

“Of course I do, sit down,” she supplied, gesturing awkwardly to the bed she’d just been sat on, taking a breath and straightening her shoulders. 

She never had to turn back on after she’d let herself shut down. It was always,  _ always _ in times where she knew she could be either asleep or a zombie for the rest of the night, and she was trying to fight back to functioning as she dug through her backpack once more.

She heard him take a moment before settling down on the bed, sniffling a few times in a way that made Kit want to scream, but instead just caused her to dig more frantically. 

_ Blue pills. Blue pills. Come on, Dakota, where are they? Why is your bag such a mess? Why are  _ you _ such a mess? Reid probably thinks you can’t handle this, and how he’s going to tell Gideon, and they’re going to tell Hotch, and- _

“Are you okay?”

Her hands froze in between a wrist brace and a bottle of ibuprofen. 

“Yes,” she said evenly, though her whole body tensed, “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” he said quietly, “You’re breathing picked up, and when you answered the door, you were crying. And the longer you look through your backpack the more agitated you seem.”

It was quiet for a moment. Kit didn’t resume her dig, but instead turned to face Reid at his spot atop her bed. 

“What happened to not profiling one another?” She asked after a moment. 

His eyebrows pulled together, searching for a moment before his head tilted, tongue flicking over chapped lips before he offered, “It’s okay if this is hard. Gideon always says that-”

“It’s not,” she said, effectively cutting him off for the second time in the five minutes he’d been in her room. She didn’t care at all what Gideon always said.

He looked unconvinced, suspicion flooding off of him, in addition to the sick feeling he’d already been sending her way. 

She could feel her hands clenching, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

_ He has no idea. He has no idea so you can’t be upset with him. He doesn’t know anything about you. He probably thinks you’re just as incompitent as Gideon does. Don’t give him any fuel for the fire. _

“It’s not hard,” she said, just a bit softer than before. “I’m perfectly capable, and I’m tired. Here.” 

She turned and pulled the blue blister pack out of her backpack, hand suddenly knowing exactly where it was.

_ Naturally _ .

“Take these. I’ll give you the other ones in the morning.”

Reid looked down at the pills for a moment before he worried at his lip, eyes nervous as he asked, “You’re really not going to tell Hotch?”

“No, Reid, I’m really not going to tell Hotch. And I won’t tell Gideon either. No one knows. Go to sleep.”

She watched as he took a moment before nodding at her, standing up and heading for the door. He was halfway through before he turned and shifted his weight on his feet.

“Dakota?”

_ I might kill this one. Just this one. _

“Reid?”

“Thank you,” he said softly, “again. I’m sorry that I intruded.”

She watched him for a moment before she shook her head. She realized that the trembling had stopped, and she didn’t feel as foggy anymore. Having a distraction, even if the distraction sniffled and asked probing questions and used her first name, it had helped.

She let herself give him a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s okay, that’s why I’m here. Get some sleep.”

He nodded gently, returning her half smile with one of his own.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

She watched as he closed the door, the room becoming isolated again. She settled back on the bed, only allowing herself to be lost for a moment before she shut the light out.

* * *

“We believe whoever poisoned these people was motivated by revenge,” Hotch was saying. They’d met early to give the profile, but it was later than they’d wanted when they were finally able to gather all the officers. 

They were all pushed to one side of the room, sitting on various surfaces or standing in the middle where they could easily be seen. Kit had sat on top of the desk Reid was sitting in, wordlessly pressing a cup of tea into his slightly trembling hands. They’d found a moment when they weren’t being watched for her to slip the pills into his hand, but she’d only been able to find a drink just before Hotch had begun.

Morgan was continuing what Hotch had started, and Reid took the moment to slip the medication into his mouth, chasing it with a too-large sip of too-hot tea. Kit had to hold her snicker at the face he pulled.

“The randomness of the victimology - average people in an average-sized town... All points to a local resident.”

“We know that people who poison for the purpose of revenge primarily act alone,” Elle continued. 

“However,” Hotch added, “he may have manipulated someone close to him to assist him. The unsub usually disposes of these accomplices when they're of no further use to him.”

Kit listened as they bounced around, all taking a part of the profile to deliver. She paid attention as closely as she could, taking in everything that was being said, and wishing that she could be able to see what they all saw.

She focused on Reid saying, ”This individual was savvy enough to use rohypnol to obstruct our investigation, erasing the memories of the victims of how they were poisoned,” and she felt herself nodding along with him, listening closely to his voice and watching to see if anyone had picked up on what she’d been trying to help him mask. 

So far her efforts seemed successful, and she let herself feel good about that. She could take care of this team. Hotch’s faith was well placed.

She focused back on the profile again, her heart sinking when the emotions in the room shifted dramatically. Gideon had said that a lot of people could die, and everyone had flooded the room with varying levels of anxiety. 

A lot of people could die, and they had limited time to find him.

JJ came up behind them, drawing the attention of the profilers around her. She whispered quietly to Hotch, though it was quiet everywhere now, and her words caused quick movement in every body that filled the small room.

“We have a leak.”

The small television in the station was turned on immediately, grainy and nearly not loud enough for them all to hear. 

“That's right, Steve. Neighbors became aware something was wrong when a local Beachwood restaurant closed early. From inside sources, we learned that representatives of the CDC began testing food inside the restaurant.”

Gideon spoke over the woman for a moment, a wave of agitation flying off of him. “If you're gonna report the story, name the restaurant.”

“Unconfirmed, we were told that some of the food had been tainted with hallucinogenic drugs,” the reporter continued, and Kit understood exactly what Gideon meant. 

“Name the restaurant,” he said again, and Kit found herself standing from her spot atop the desk. Spencer raised an eyebrow at her, but she gravitated towards the TV wordlessly.

“Until we do confirm all of this, we will not release the name of the restaurant. We'll only say it's a Beachwood area favorite. This is Suzanne Whang reporting live from Beachwood. Back to you, Steve.”

“Damn it,” Kit said forcefully, surprising herself a bit at the venom in her words. She rarely swore in English, and she went a bit pink at the thought that Gaelic would have probably been a more appropriate choice. 

Gideon was glaring daggers at her, not really looking like he cared much  _ what _ she had said, but that she’d spoken at all.

“They didn't name the restaurant,” JJ said, not paying attention to anyone else. She sounded dejected, but kept her tone more even than Kit had. 

“What is it?” Detective Hanover said, looking confused.

“Call the local hospital, make sure they know what's coming. Excuse me,” Gideon said. Kit started to move before she realized he had been talking to JJ. 

Heat welled inside of her. He was asking JJ to contact the hospital when she was standing right there. She understood, of course, that JJ’s job was communication, but she was the one that had been running point with the hospital. Especially the day before, when she and Reid had nearly spent the whole day there. The pink of her face flushed to red, and her hands clenched.

“Where do your 911 calls get routed?” Hotch asked Hanover. His calm determination set her straight back into the throws of what was happening. The restaurant. No name given. People were going to freak out, no doubt in her mind. 

“There's a county phone bank. They contact first responders, the fire department.”

“Alert them, too. They're going to need additional personnel and any other backup you've got. Auxiliary cops. You're going to have to call them.” 

“But, why?”

Though Hotch was stoic and calm, Kit could feel the tense energy he now had. It would be a mess to get everything under control once the storm hit. 

“Because we're going to have a heck of a time just calming people down and we really don't need the confusion to interfere with our investigation,” Hotch answered, calm never failing. 

“Do you want me to start making those calls?” An officer asked readily, and Kit watched as that set Hanover right off the edge. 

He moved to the center of the room and started yelling, hands in the air.

_ Here we go. _

“No, no, no, no. Hey, hey! Everybody please shut up for a minute. Tell me what this is all about.” 

There was a moment where everything stopped. JJ stood with the phone at her ear. All eyes were on Hanover, mostly surprise and confusion around them. 

Then the phones started. They all rang, loud and overlapping, deafening almost everything else in the air. 

There was a moment before Gideon simply said, “Panic.”

It took a moment for there to be any sort of control. People were answering phones left and right, including Kit, who was back at the desk she and Reid had started in.

“We can’t comment at this time, thank you,” she said for at least the fifth time, hanging the phone up and looking at Reid.

“How are you doing?”

“I’ll be far better when this is over,” he said, taking a sip from the tea she knew was probably now lukewarm at best. He got up and they moved to where JJ and Hotch were, following the lead of Elle and Morgan. 

“I just got off with the hospital. They're swamped with over 50 potential poisonings from local restaurants, but no hallucinations,” JJ said, hanging up the phone and looking around.

“Another poisoning?” Morgan asked.

“Or maybe more hysteria,” Hotch

“We've looked into any civil or criminal complaints from employees, ex-employees, Suppliers, regulars at the cafe. Not one good lead,” Hanover said. 

He was dejected. The inability to control what was happening to his own town was what Kit guessed had him giving off such a feeling of hopelessness.

“There's got to be somebody connected to that cafe who pops as a suspect,” Gideon said, rifling through some papers.

“Morgan, you wanna go back there, see if we can find another angle?” Elle suggested.

“Couldn’t hurt,” he said. 

The two of them turned to leave, and Hotch looked at the three still standing there. “JJ, you, Colghain, and Reid go to the hospital. See if any of the poisonings seem legit.”

* * *

When they got to the hospital, JJ and Reid both waited for a moment outside the door. Kit stopped in her tracks, following their lead. There was an awkward moment before she said,

“What are we waiting for? Is someone meeting us?”

JJ shook her head, giving Kit a small smile.

“We’re following you. I made contact with the hospital, but I’m not sure exactly who is the best point of contact in an ER overrun like this. I assumed you do.”

Kit couldn’t help but give a small smile at the warmth that flooded her chest at those words. She and JJ hadn’t talked a lot, but between their guessing game in the car the night before, and the even temper and apt social skills she showed, Kit really respected and liked her. She was good to work with, and clearly knew how to read a room.

“I do. Stay out of the way as best you can and stay close, there will definitely be gurneys going in and out.”

They walked in, flashing their badges as they crossed back into the busy ER. There were gurneys as Kit had predicted, and she was almost overwhelmed by the amount of panic flooding the small ER hallway they found themselves in. She could feel JJ and Reid close to her, and she stopped the first nurse she saw.

“Hi, I’m Nurse Colghain with the FBI,” she said quickly, using a different title than she normally would. The nurse was holding a file, she didn’t have the moment Kit needed to assure her competence.

“The FBI has nurses?” The young nurse said, clearly a little skeptical, but antsy as she glanced towards her assumed destination.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kit said, speaking as she would to any of her nurses back at the clinic. “Where can I find your Head?”

“Nurses’ Station. Nurse Leah. Tall, dark hair. Excuse me.” She scampered off, but Kit had all she needed.

She led JJ and Spencer to the Nurses’ Station and spotted a tall, dark haired woman who was exuding calm, though just beneath it was clear uncertainty. 

“That’s her,” she said to Reid and JJ without turning around. “Excuse me,” she said louder, “Nurse Leah?”

The woman turned, searching for a moment before she spotted the out-of-place agents.

“Yes? Who are you?”

“I’m Nurse Colghain with the FBI. This is Agent Jareau and Doctor Reid. Can we have a minute?”

Nurse Leah shook her head quickly, scowling a bit as the three agents bellied up to the Nurse’ Station wall.

“I really can't talk right now. We just got hammered,” she said, starting to walk away.

“Listen,” Kit said, moving to follow her, “most of these food poisonings are probably psychosomatic.”

“What makes you think that?” Nurse Leah said, her attitude changing to one of skepticism and annoyance.

“A news broadcast just reported a local restaurant was poisoned. Now, it would be a huge coincidence if there was another poisoning right after that aired,” JJ said, her voice shifting from the friendliness she’s used outside the hospital door to the political tightness she used with reporters.

“So what do you want me to do?” Nurse Leah said, her eyes darting between them.

“Help us find out which cases, if any, are real,” Reid said, posture straight, not a tremble in sight. He either felt great, or he was masking incredibly well.

“People are coming in with all kinds of complaints,” she said, “But, there's at least one case that isn't psychosomatic. She's barely breathing.”

Reid’s eyebrows pulled together, “Can you take us to the doctor that's treating that patient?”

Nurse Leah nodded, moving to take them with her. Reid and Kit moved to follow, but JJ started to walk away.

“I'll call Hotch,” she assured, and the two others nodded, letting her disappear down the hallway.

The doctor they were passed off to took them down the hallway and towards the patient’s room, talking all the while.

“When the patient got here, she didn't remember anything about her day. And her speech was so slurred, I could barely understand her.” He said. His body language was favored toward Reid once he’d been introduced as “Doctor,” but they hadn’t gotten to clarify that he was  _ not _ that kind of doctor. Still, Kit hoped his genius brain could make connections faster than her medically inclined one could.

“It sounds like rohypnol,” Reid said, “Did you test her?”

They walked into the patient's room and Kit’s eyes went wide. She was coughing desperately, the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth doing little to prevent it.

“She was positive for rohypnol, negative for LSD. But, we're running more tests because rohypnol alone doesn't explain her symptoms. She presented with nausea, difficulty swallowing, labored breathing. She was also having trouble moving her legs.”

“How long had she been sick?” JJ asked.

“She didn't know. I could barely understand her when she first got her. Now, she can't speak at all.”

“And she’d been coughing like that the whole time?” Kit asked, glancing to the bed. Her heart ached at the panic she felt coming from the ill woman.

“Yes, consistently.”

“Do you know any biological agents that have similar symptoms: Ricin, Sarin gas?” Reid asked quietly, his back turned to the bed.

“You think this is a biological attack?” The doctor said, keeping his expression even.

“We can't rule anything out,” Reid said, eyebrows raised and arms crossed firmly over his middle. 

The doctor took a moment before he said, “I'll order a few more tests.”

Hotch arrived not very long after, meeting Kit, Reid, and JJ outside of the patient, Lynn Dempsey’s room. They bounced around ideas, but nothing seemed to stick. At one point Kit used “finding the restroom” as an excuse to dig out more pills for Reid, and the two of them did a seamless pass off in front of the decrepit coffee machine. 

It wasn’t twenty minutes before there was a call for Hotch, the unit chief pulling the phone to his ear.

“Morgan, it's Hotch. What's up?”

JJ’s voice came out sharp, having been looking into Ms. Dempsey’s room. “Guys, I think she's trying to say something.”

The three of them flooded into her room, getting close to the bed as she leaned towards them.

“The en,” she said. Her voice carried almost no weight, though the urgency was obvious. 

“The end?” JJ asked, looking at Reid and Kit. Kit shook her head, and Reid leaned forward.

“She may be incoherent from the lack of oxygen,” he said, eyes scanning. Kit moved closer to the bed, leaning in just a bit.

“Can you say it again, Ms. Dempsey?” She said gently. The tone and pacing she used with patients came second-nature to her, and it didn’t take any effort to shift from self conscious BAU draft to Head Nurse. 

“It’s the en-” Ms. Dempsey tried again before being cut off by coughs that sounded as if they were already choking her. 

“Doctor!” JJ called quickly, panic flooding from her, and Kit turned towards the other two agents. 

“Give her some space,” she said, not allowing wiggle room in her tone. She started moving back herself, drawing the other two with her. “Here, let’s give some room.”

The doctor came in, setting down the new tox screen and working quickly over Ms. Dempsey. It was a few minutes before things calmed enough for Kit to ask calmly,

“Doctor, do you mind if I look at that?”

She gestured to the tox screen, to which he nodded quickly. Kit picked it up and started rifling through it, listening as JJ asked, “So, what are the chances that she's not poisoned, that maybe she just got some bad food?”

“Highly improbable. Chances are basically nil,” he said. 

Hotch came to stand beside Reid.

“What is the rate of survival?” Reid asked.

“This dose,” the doctor said, “without anti-toxin... Zero.” 

“What is it?” Hotch asked.

Kit’s voice came quickly and quietly, eyes darting up from the tox screen. “Botulism.”

There was a moment of quiet before a Nurse said with seriousness, “Doctor, her BP is dropping rapidly.”

“It's sepsis. Give another amp of epi,” he said.

“She's going into defib.”

“She's crashing! Get the paddles.”

Kit watched as the nurses and doctor worked over Ms. Dempsey. She’d been on her share of crash teams, but she’d never just watched and done nothing as a patient started to code right in front of her. They were paging a code blue, starting CPR, and everything in her screamed that she should be helping. She should be doing something. She should be moving, or speaking, or reading charts and screens and percentages. Something.  _ Anything _ .

The problem was, she didn’t know if she was allowed. She had no idea what the rules were about jumping on a code in a hospital that wasn’t yours. She’d never had to. She’d never talked to Hotch about anything like that. Her job was with the BAU, only assisting on cases that were medical. 

This case  _ was  _ medical, but where was the line?

“The test run is over,” Reid said, swallowing hard and heading out of the room.

He jarred her from her thoughts, and her eyes went to follow him as he walked out.

JJ followed immediately, but Kit stood there for a few extra moments before she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned away from Reid’s receding frame, looking up to see Hotch. His eyes held the same soft kindness they always did, and he gestured over his shoulder wordlessly. 

Kit took one last look at Lynn Dempsey, the doctor and nurses performing CPR on her lifeless body, before turning and following Hotch out of the hospital room.

Kit tried not to think of Lynn Dempsey as a patient dying in a hospital. She tried to think of Lynn Dempsey as a person outside of oxygen masks and heart monitors and charge paddles. 

It wasn’t helping that they went back to the police station, where the profilers sifted through her life in an attempt to see if she was a murderer.

“Lynn Dempsey was an executive assistant. She has no expertise with chemicals. She doesn't fit the profile of the unsub,” Gideon said, leafing through some of Dempsey’s information.

Morgan didn’t quite agree. “But the CDC found both LSD and rohypnol in the candy she was replacing at the bank.”

“She must have been an accomplice,” Hotch said, “and when the unsub finished using her to further his attack, he killed her with botulism.”

“So, what does that tell us about the unsub?” Gideon said, finally looking up and around at the team.

Reid leaned forward on the desk, furthest away from them all. “He's far more sophisticated than we realized,” he offered. 

Elle was getting frustrated, and she looked at Reid as if she was lost. 

“Why is that?” 

Reid looked as if he was going to respond, but suddenly cleared his throat in a way that made Kit’s eyebrows pull together. It sounded to her like he was trying not to cough, a small bit of anxiety rolling off of him as she connected the dots.

“The botulism toxin is the deadliest substance known to man,” she said, biding time and giving every bit of information she knew about what exactly the toxin was. Maybe it would help somehow. If anything, it would buy Reid some time. “It blocks acetylcholine receptors, paralyzing the body until it’s essentially choked death.” She looked around, watching as all eyes were on her. Reid had gotten himself back under control, and she gave a small shrug before she ended her spiel. “Without an antitoxin, a lethal dose will kill you in thirty six hours.”

The quiet that followed her information was nearly choking to Kit herself, and she could feel the variety of reactions to her speaking up. Morgan was surprised, but that was all. There was nothing hostile there. Hotch and Elle were processing and spinning again, trying to connect it all together. Gideon was either annoyed or unimpressed, neither of which made her feel any better. 

But Reid was grateful, which helped.

“How many people have access to this stuff?” Elle asked seriously, looking at Kit with anticipation.

“I don't know,” Kit said, and she turned her eyes to Reid.

“In New Jersey, quite a few,” he said, “It's the pharmaceutical and chemical capital of the U.S., so that the toxin can be ordered in the form of botox through any chemical or biological lab or botox clinic. It has to be purified, but any chemist or lab assistant has that capability.” 

“So, we're looking for chemists and sophisticated lab assistants?” Elle asked.

Reid nodded. “Basically.”

Morgan spoke up from the side of their group. He was the closest to Kit, and she was thankful that he had taken station there. While she tried to stay one step away and isolate, taking as infrequently as she could, it was reassuring that Morgan would choose that spot and keep her in the loop.

“Okay, wait a minute. If the unsub is a chemist with access to the toxin, what'd he need Dempsey for?”

“Well, we don't know yet,” Gideon said, “But, she worked for a, she worked for a company, called, uh,” he started rifling through the papers, “Hitchcock Pharmaceuticals. I think there's a good chance the unsub worked there, too.”

Hotch nodded. “Well, let's start with people who fit the profile who've had a recent stressor.”

Morgan called Garcia, and she found them some names to work with. Kit tried to pay attention, but Reid had settled himself down in one of the desks again, fingers trembling slightly, but nothing else giving him away.

While the team spoke she found herself walking to make another cup of tea, eyes darting to her backpack as she steeped the bag. She retrieved what she was looking for quickly, the honey stick having been tucked in there by Monty as a “just in case” item. Kit had laughed at her then, but she was glad for it now. 

When she came back and set the tea down next to Reid, making sure the rest of the team was distracted by the case, Elle was saying, “All those innocent people at the bank.”

Gideon didn’t seem concerned, and that bothered Kit to no end. 

“They meant nothing to him. He'll take out anybody to forward his cause.”

There was a moment that Kit wasn’t in the precinct anymore. She was at the hospital, watching Lynn Dempsey die before her very eyes. Her chest constricted, like she was being squeezed in the grasp of a snake. Grieving a woman she had never known.

“Like Dempsey,” she said.

Gideon didn’t seem to feel the weight of her comment the way she did, continuing on as if she’d barely spoken. 

“Like Dempsey, and eventually, even himself. Until he finishes taking out his primary targets.”

“We have no idea where he's going to strike next,” Morgan said, expressing the frustration we all had, “For all we know, he could poison the local reservoir.”

“Elle, the local cops haven't gotten any leads out of Dempsey. Why don't you go to Hitchcock and see if you have any luck,” Hotch said, causing Elle to perk up a bit.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding and moving out of her seat.

* * *

“This is my  _ job _ !” 

Kit was  _ not _ yelling. She was speaking to Hotchner with a whole lot of heat, hands clenched by her sides so they wouldn’t tap. Wouldn’t tug. Wouldn’t give away how frustrated she was.

“Colghain, this is going to end in arrest, or suicide. You aren’t needed on this takedown, the profile doesn’t state that he will do anything to hurt anyone but himself.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” she said, “What if the profile is wrong and something happens.”

“The profile isn’t wrong,” came a voice over her shoulder. 

Kit closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Gideon was not going to make her lose her cool. Not like in Delaware. She was having a conversation with Hotch, and Gideon could think anything he wanted, but she would ignore him if it meant keeping her words and tone relatively professional.

“I would never forgive myself if something happened to any of you.”

She meant it, and Hotch knew that. She knew he could see it in her. He was the best profiler of them all.

“Nothing is going to happen. I appreciate your dedication to your position, but this is my decision. We’ll have local SWAT with us, and we’re going in last. This will end in an arrest or a suicide.”

Hotch spoke as if to say “and that’s final” once he was done. His tone wasn’t demanding or forceful, but she knew he wasn’t going to give in. 

Her shoulders finally relaxed, one hand coming up to rub at her opposite bicep.

“Please be careful,” she said finally, to which Hotch nodded.

“We will. I’d like you to check in with Reid. He’s looking… off.”

“I already did,” she said simply, full intention to keep her promise. “He’s okay. Said he hasn’t been sleeping well.”

Hotch didn’t look convinced, but let that be her answer without more pushing.

“Alright, well, maybe check again. He won’t ask for help.”

“Don’t you have an unsub to go face without me?” She said, and though she was still frustrated, she allowed herself to push it down with the other emotions, giving him a small smile.

He nodded, turning on his heel and setting off down the hall. 

Kit took a moment to breathe before she turned back to the precinct. Gideon wasn’t standing behind her. She had no idea where he’d gone, actually.

_ Wonderful. He wants to be confrontational and Hotch isn’t here anymore. He didn’t let you go on the takedown. Did Gideon get to him? Does he not think I’m capable? _

“What are you thinking about?”

“Cac!” Kit jumped, turning towards the slightly flushed assailant behind her. “Reid! That’s the third time you’ve done that.”

“What does that mean?” He asked, voice nasal. 

She tilted her head, pulling her eyebrows together as she thought about his question. It felt vaguely familiar.

“What?”

“What does that mean? You spoke Gaelic.”

“Oh,” she said, smoothing out her pants that were not wrinkled. “I don’t know what I said. You scared me, I reacted.”

“Cac.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, jaw dropping slightly. “ _ What? _ ”

“Cac, that’s what you said. You said ca-”

“Stop!” She all but yelled, her hands coming up in front of her as if to physically stop him from talking. “Okay, yes. I got it. That’s what I said. Please stop saying it.”

He looked confused by her outburst, sheepish even. “Tell me what it means.”

“It’s…” She trailed off, feeling the embarrassment creep across her face. “It’s rude. It’s a rude word.”

“Like a swear word?”

“No, a rude word. Like, that a child would say.”

“Are you trying to tell me that it’s a… bathroom word?” 

Kit watched as Reid’s face morphed into a smirk. Was he teasing her? Reid could tease? She hadn’t been involved in any kind of situation that would warrant Reid teasing her. Was he being friendly?

_ Don’t think too hard about it. He’s Gideon’s protege, and Gideon doesn’t like you.  _

“No more questions!” She snapped quickly, turning back into the precinct and stalking as far away as she could. Maybe she could find JJ and be of use somewhere with no Reid and no Gideon until the others got back.

* * *

“He let us take him,” Hotch said. “He didn't kill himself. Doesn't fit the profile of a workplace killer.”

He, Gideon, Reid, and Kit were standing in the viewing portion of the interrogation room, the four of them staring through the glass at Hill. Kit hadn’t gotten a chance to ask Hotch why exactly  _ she _ was needed. She figured Elle or Morgan would have been a much more appropriate choice.

“Sometimes you miss the mark,” Gideon said, hands pressed firmly on the top of the room’s table. “Let's be glad we did. He's our best chance at stopping the next attack.”

“Well, his lab had traces of botulinum toxin, but no clues as to what he's up to next,” Hanover said, walking in the room to stand near Gideon. He sounded listless, and Kit could feel the shift in the room when he entered. He was in over his head and he knew it.

Hotch didn’t look towards him, instead staying trained on Hill. “Our only chance is to make him tell us.”

Hanover didn’t seem convinced. “You think he will?”

“Once caught, these types usually do. They want the whole world to know about their brilliant plan to destroy their enemies,” Reid offered him, not sounding very impressed by Hill’s archetype. 

“In case he doesn't give it up, let's play every angle,” Gideon said, angling his body away from where Kit stood at the wall. He wasn’t talking to her, that much was very clear. “We need to re-examine everything we know about this guy.”

Reid shifted on his feet, pressing his hands into his pockets. “I'll check witness reports, forensic evidence, anything that might be a clue to this guy's plan.” 

Gideon nodded as Reid turned to him for approval. “A lot of lives could be at stake,” he said softly.

“I can help you,” Kit offered, keeping her voice level. She wanted to check her notebook for Reid’s medicinal distribution times more than she thought she would be helpful with his paperwork search, but she didn’t want to be in the room with Gideon anymore, and she wasn’t really doing anything just standing around.

“No,” Hotch said, now looking away from Hill and towards her isolated spot. “Colghain, I want you here while Gideon and I speak with Hill. Watch from this side of the glass. I’ll need your input when we’re done.”

“Hotch-”

“Sir-”

Gideon and Kit went to speak at the same time, causing Reid’s eyes to widen. He took his leave from the room quickly, and Hotch raised a hand to stop both Kit and Gideon before they could continue their grievance.

“Colghain will stay here and listen in while we interview Hill. Watch him closely.”

Kit hadn’t even been able to look at Hill during their short time on their side of the glass. He was a killer, and to her knowledge, she’d never been in the presence of one before. How one person could feel they were above so many others, that their feelings and their lives were more important, was lost to her, and she had no desire to look at him at all. Let alone watch him for the duration of his interview.

The room suddenly felt very cramped, though they had lost both Reid and Hanover in the moments of situational discomfort. Hotch’s eyes darted between Kit and Gideon, narrowing slightly as the physical tension in the far-too-small space between the two.

“Colghain,” Hotch said again, now gaining her attention more fully. “I want you at the window. Feel him out.”

She took a breath that seemed to catch in her chest, not able to get deep enough to make the feelings of discomfort go away. Her head nodded of its own accord, and her feet seemed to follow suit, moving towards the window and finally looking at the man sat there.

He wasn’t much. Not remarkable. He looked like a dad she would have seen at afternoon pick-up in grade school. 

_ But he isn’t a dad at school, Kody. This man hurt people. Killed two of them, and was trying to kill others. He was using drugs and toxins to harm people. What sort of sick person could do that? Not much of a person at all.  _

The hatred sat like a weight in her gut, and while it was obvious Hotch and Gideon had no benevolent feelings for Hill, it didn’t belong to either of them. It was all her own. 

Her eyes narrowed through the glass, and she took a breath.

“Okay. Yes, sir,” she said. She heard even footsteps pad out the doorway. Her eyes didn’t move from Hill as she continued mumbling, now directly to Hill though the glass, even though he couldn’t hear her. “Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú.”

“What did you say to him?”

Gideon.

“Sorry?” Kit said, eyes never moving from the window. She’d thought Gideon had left as well and was following Hotch, not staying behind to watch her.

“What did you say? To Hill.”

She took a breath and turned, eyes narrowing at the older man in front of her. He didn’t want her there anyway, she might as well tell him.

“Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú,” she said, now louder. Each word was enunciated clearly, eyes not moving from Gideon’s. If he wanted to know, she’d tell him. “It’s something my gran used to say to people with tattoos after she came to America.”

“And what does it mean?” He asked, mouth in a hard line, eyes searching her for an answer.

“May the devil choke you,” she said simply, voice never wavering. 

There was a moment of silence between them. Kit didn’t shift. She didn’t fidget or rock her weight. She didn’t move her eyes from his.

“Where’s yours?” He finally asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him, eyes never becoming less severe as she tried to gauge his question.

“My what?”

“Your tattoo? Where is it?”

She let out a breath, shaking her head. She hated the way Gideon felt so smug. How it seemed to circle in the air and choke her.

“There it is,” he said, not waiting any longer for her answer.

“There what is?” she responded, not able to keep the bite from her tone. 

“Trouble,” he said simply. His eyes never left hers.

For a moment she considered pushing. Considered defending herself, and telling him that she wasn’t trouble. That she was doing her job, and that he should just  _ let her be. _

She didn’t get the chance, though, as he turned on his heel and followed where Hotch had left the room.

Kit stood, staring at the spot Gideon had just been for a long while before she heard Hotch’s voice through the speaker. 

She turned back to the glass, watching now as Hotch and Gideon spoke to Hill. She took in his facial expressions. His body language. The feel of his emotions, though it wasn’t easy through the glass.

She did her job.

When they finished and reentered the room Kit was in, Hotch stood next to her, looking in at Hill.

“I called JJ. She, Morgan, and Elle are headed to the party now.” 

Kit nodded once, eyes still searching Hill as he sat across the glass.

“What did you notice?”

She took a breath, calmer now that Hotch was there, and that she’d had something productive to focus on. “He’s really… sweaty. That probably sounds stupid, but it’s strange to me. He didn’t give me a feeling of regret. He seemed sure of his decision, I guess, until you started to talk about taking his case. Then less sure, but he was sweating before that.” She waited for him to stop her, but he didn’t, so she continued. “He started fidgeting a lot there at the end. I don’t think it was guilt though. More like… discomfort. Like there was something else bothering him other than the two of you doing your interrogation.”

Hotch nodded, turning to look at her now. “He was sweating before we started?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I’m sure of it. That’s one of the things I look for when I’m watching for patients in distress.”

The three agents watched Hill for another minute before Hotch spoke to Gideon, saying, “What is it?”

“You're right,” Gideon said, “It doesn't make sense. Why didn't Hill take his own life when we had him surrounded?”

“Guys, I think we have a problem.”

Reid walked into the room as he spoke at a brisk pace, all sense that there was something wrong with his health pushed aside by his serious demeanor. “I've been looking over the victim reports. One of the victims that was originally dosed was severely diabetic.”

Kit’s eyes went wide, though Hotch didn’t seem to see the issue.

“And?” He asked.

“He wouldn't have taken any candy from the bowl at the bank,” Kit said, eyes flicking to her, and then back to Reid.

He nodded at her and said, “All of the victims were there. We know that, but how were they poisoned? I started looking at the security footage.”

He turned the laptop he was holding. On the screen was the film from the bank, in which Lynn Dempsey was meddling with the candy bowl.

“We know Lynn Dempsey replaced some candy from the bowl. Look how close that jar is to the deposit envelopes. Now, watch this.” He clicked a button, and the film zoomed in to show Lynn Dempsey’s hand on top of the stack of envelopes, right next to the candy bowl. “See that? Her hand is directly in the stack of envelopes.”

“So, you think the envelopes were poisoned as well as the candy?” Hotch asked. Kit took a step closer, eyes looking carefully at the picture.

Reid continued. “As Lynn Dempsey was dying, she kept saying something like "the end, the end." I think that what she was saying was "the envelopes." I mean, what was Hill actually testing? The rohypnol? The LSD?”

Gideon took a moment before saying, “The delivery system.”

“Exactly,” Reid said, “Botulinum toxin and LSD are the only two substances in the world toxic enough to be effective in doses as small as thousandths of a gram. Small enough to fit on the glue strip of an envelope.”

Kit found herself nodding, though no one was looking at her. She might have added more to Spencer’s finding, but Gideon’s words from earlier stopped her. 

_ Trouble.  _

She wouldn’t prove him right.

“But, the CDC didn't find any evidence of poison on the envelopes,” Hotch said, face slightly scrunched in confusion. Grasping at straws, just like they all were.

“They wouldn't have. The envelopes were destroyed after the checks were deposited and processed,” Spencer explained. He started to sound a bit hoarse now, and Kit shifted her weight in sympathy of his discomfort.

“So,” Hotch said, clearly needing to process out loud at the speed he took his words. “like the rohypnol, Hill was using the candy to throw us off. To cover his tracks. To distract us from the fact that he was testing the envelopes.”

Reid was still working it over as well. “What I can't figure out is why would he poison the envelopes to test the punch?”

“Because the punch is a decoy just like the candy,” Hotch offered.

Kit turned to look at Hill. There was something they were missing. Something right there, but they just couldn't see it.

_ What could he still be hiding? _

She watched for a moment as he started to go a bit red, Hill’s breathing seeming strained. She heard Gideon speak behind her.

“He's not finished.”

She felt her jaw go slack as she realized what was happening. Hill was choking. He’d dosed himself with the botulism toxin before he could be captured. That was why he didn’t kill himself. He’d already done it. He was dying.

_ He’s dying _ .

“Hotch!” She yelled, moving quickly out the door of the room and around the side. She was pretty sure she didn’t have the clearance to be doing whatever she was about to do, but she didn’t really care.

She heard Hotch call, “Gideon!” behind her, but she didn’t stop. 

She threw the door open, pulling desperately at the chair Hill was sitting in. The chair was heavy, and with Hill sitting on it she struggled.

Hotch came up behind her, helping pull the chair out.

“Get him down on the floor!” She called. She could feel Gideon behind her, trying to move into her space and take control.

“Get his head back!”

“Shut  _ up _ !” She yelled, pulling at Hill’s arms to release the hold he had on himself as the toxin paralyzed his diaphragm. 

It only took a few seconds before Hill stopped breathing, tongue going slack inside his mouth as his life ended before their eyes. 

“He's dead,” Hotch said simply. 

Gideon was quick to respond. “He killed himself before we even got to him.”

Kit stood to her feet, slamming her hand onto the table, “Damn it!” She yelled, rounding on Gideon. “What the hell is wrong with you?! What the  _ hell _ -” she slammed her hand on the table again, “-do you think I’m doing here?!”

“Colghain-” Hotch started, but Kit was already making her way out the door.

“I’m calling EMS!” She yelled angrily over her shoulder, pushing past a dumbfounded Reid standing in the hallway, and leaving all three agents in her wake.

Kit was pacing in the hallway once she finished the call. She expected Hotch to reprimand her, or Gideon to be angry with her. Reid hadn’t even said anything, though by the look of him after his revelation about Lynn Dempsey, he was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to try to unpack what had happened.

She considered trying to help him some more. Pump him full of cold medicine and send him to bed. She didn’t. She just continued to pace, infuriated by the way Gideon had tried to take over. He had no respect for her, that much was clear.

_ Why am I even here? Why am I here with these people who think I’m a joke? Who have no respect for my job or for me? They don’t care about what I’m doing or who I am. They’re stiffs. They’re all stiffs. _

“Colghain, come on.”

She looked up to see Gideon and Reid already setting off down the hallway, Hotch in their wake. Gideon’s body language suggested he was frustrated, but Kit genuinely couldn’t have cared less.

“The victims need to ingest the anti-toxin within four hours of the time they were poisoned,” Reid was saying. 

Kit caught up to Hotch, right at his heels. They were moving in a way that suggested action, and she couldn’t pace and fume in the hallway anymore.

“You found the real targets?”

“They’re in the woods.”

“Do we know  _ where  _ in the woods?”

They SUV flew down the highway, and when they got there they were out of their seats in seconds. The four of them vaulted the wall between the car and the campsite, and Kit only slowed when she saw Reid nearly topple over. Was he dizzy? She’d have to check later.

They got to the officers waiting there out of breath, but entirely focused. Nothing but the victims mattered.

“These guys are in bad shape and getting worse by the minute,” the officer that greeted them said.

Hotch almost didn’t let the officer finish before he was asking, “Who's the sickest?”

“That one over there,” the man said.

Gideon  _ didn’t  _ let the officer finish before he was already yelling. “Medic!”

“He’s having trouble breathing. Hyperventilating, I think,” the officer continued, and they moved quickly. 

“What time did he lick the envelopes?” Reid asked, just behind where Kit was walking. Gideon and Hotch were already near the man that was sweating heavily, his breaths wheezing with exertion.

“They said around 12:30,” the officer assured.

Kit let out a breath. They had time. They would be okay. 

She came upon them as Gideon was starting to speak to the man. His tone was gentle and understanding. Not at all anything like he’d ever used towards her. 

The tone she associated with him was scathing. Questioning. When he spoke to the victim, she could have confused him with one of her clinic nurses.

“I’m a federal agent. You're going to be fine. This is gonna make you feel a hundred percent. Relax and breathe. You're gonna be fine.”

“Thank you,” the man said, his voice weak, but the panic flooding off of him reduced to worry. 

Kit moved to another one of the executives, speaking softly and reassuringly as they were administered the antitoxin. She wished she could be of more help, but the EMS workers had it covered. That was their job. In that moment, she was a federal agent. Just like Gideon.

She settled in the seat across from Morgan on the jet. He put on his headphones and crashed almost immediately, and Kit envied his ability to sleep so easily. 

Her mind kept drifting to Hill. To the way he died on the floor of the interrogation room. To Gideon trying to get in her way, or take her job as she attempted to help the dying man. To the way she’d yelled at him.

Ari and Monty would never believe it if she told them she’d lost her temper that way. Monty was their spitfire, at least at work. In the clinic there wasn’t a cooler head than Kit’s. But something about the way Gideon treated not only her, but those all around him, bothered her deep in her gut. She watched as he was gentle with Reid, and people he didn’t know, but never with other members of the team.

Now, she figured he probably didn’t tell everyone else they were trouble.  _ She _ was trouble. Just her.

Her hands moved to help tuck her legs under her, brushing gently on the tattoo just higher than her ankle. A sprig of holly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. 

She waited a moment before pulling her backpack onto the seat with her. She grabbed the blue pills from where she’d purposefully stashed them that morning, and then sat up taller, leaning over the back of her seat to where Reid had all but thrown himself.

Gideon was sleeping across from him, but she could see that their youngest wasn’t asleep at all.

“Reid,” she said quietly.

He opened his eyes and blinked up at her. “Um, yes?” His voice was rough again, sounding almost congested.

“Here. Before Hotch finishes making his coffee.” She passed over the pills and a bottle of water she’d snagged from the nurses station at the hospital the day before. She’d saved it for this exact purpose.

Reid looked surprised for a moment before sitting up, sniffling before accepting the offering. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, turning back to sit in her seat correctly without another word.

She wasn’t  _ mad _ at Reid. She was mad at Gideon. He made her feel small, and unimportant, and stupid. That wasn’t Reid’s fault.

But Gideon was Reid’s mentor, and she had no room in her emotional baggage to be friends with the pseudo son of her antagonizer. 

She scratched down the medication in her notebook before shoving it back into place in her bag. A moment passed before she heaved a sigh, glancing to Morgan and pulling out her own iPod. It wasn’t a long flight. Soon she would be back in her apartment, maybe even before Ari left for the day, and she could process about Gideon. She could process about Reid. She could process about Lynn Dempsey, coding in her hospital bed. She could process about Hill dying on the floor, right in front of her.

* * *

Kit got to the metro station in record time. The redline had only three minutes until it was supposed to pick up for the night, and Kit pulled her coat tighter around herself. She’d left quickly, only going up to the sixth floor to grab her thermos from two mornings before. She’d wash it before she was due to be in the BAU the next morning, and Hotch had even told them they could have a soft start, since they got in so late.

She was wondering if she should have given Reid the nighttime version of the medication she offered. She didn’t really think about him having to drive home, and drowsy was probably not the best choice for driving across DC on a Tuesday night. 

“Do you have any more water?”

“Cac!” 

Kit spun around, hands at the ready, only to find Reid standing two feet behind her. His eyes were wide, nose bright red, and fever flush covering his cheeks. 

“Reid! What the  _ hell _ !”

“I thought you said that was a rude word,” he rasped. No one had really spoken after they got off the jet, and Reid definitely sounded worse for wear.

“What?” She said, eyes narrowing. “It is. What are you doing here?”

A wave of confusion came off of him at that. “Um, what do you mean?”

She raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the metro tracks. “What are you doing here at my metro stop?” She scoffed quietly, not letting him have the chance to lie to her. “You can tell Gideon that I take the metro just like any other person. Monty and Ari and I share a car, and normally I’m leaving the office before eleven. You don’t have to, like, spy on me.”

She watched as his eyebrows hit his hairline. He was confused, but she didn’t care. She was tired and her emotions were starting to creep back up on her. She wasn’t going to meltdown on the metro, and she was  _ not _ going to meltdown in front of Reid. 

Not after what he’d already seen.

“You… what?”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you’re doing,” she continued. Thankfully, the metro pulled up at that moment. She stepped onto the train and turned to face him again, gesturing to his general being. “Also, you look terrible. Don’t come in to work tomorrow.”

“Wait, no, Dakota-”

“ _ Stop. _ ” She said, putting every bit of force into her words, but making sure she didn’t sound aggravated enough for someone around them to try and jump in. The last thing she needed was a good samaritan to misunderstand their situation. “Just stop. Goodnight, Reid.”

He didn’t get a chance to reply before Kit moved away from the door and took a seat. She put her face in her hands and took a deep breath. 

She didn’t notice him step through a door farther down, sinking into his own train seat, fevered forehead pressed against the cold redline glass as the train pulled away from the now empty stop.


	6. Restless Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit and Hotch have a conversation and Kit's first health meeting doesn't go exactly the way she planned. When Morgan catches her at the track the next morning, she really doesn't want to talk. (But ends up talking a whole lot.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to themetaphorgirl for motivating me to get this done! We love a procrastination session.  
> As always, comments/questions/suggestions are appreciated!

Tapping. Kit was tapping on her thigh, fighting with the anxiety trying to pull her down. They were slated to have their first health meeting, finally, after having to push it due to traveling and cases. She was supposed to give it in January, but as she stared mid-February in the face, she knew she had to push to make it happen.

She wanted to tug at the bottoms of her crimson braids. It was the one thing that grounded her immediately. Morgan was sitting right across from her and she knew he could feel her nervous energy, though he hadn’t said anything yet. She thought of him as almost a friend, of sorts, and the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was some kind of anxious freak on top of the dark cloud Gideon was casting over her head. Their morning workouts had helped, but she’d avoided him that morning at the track too, and he hadn’t said anything then either. 

It was like she was untouchable. They’d left her behind when they went on a case that Monday, and now as she looked around the exhausted members of the BAU, she wondered if Gideon had said anything about her. 

_ Of course he did. He probably does every day you aren’t there. That’s probably why JJ has been avoiding you, and why Elle and Spencer don’t try to talk to you in the bullpen anymore. Even Morgan has been on edge around you the last few weeks, after you let Hill die. _

Hill’s death had hit her harder than she let herself realize. Kit never liked losing patients, but Hill had never even  _ been _ her patient. He was an Avenger. Someone that poisoned a lot of people. Some of them had died. 

But it didn’t matter. Hill had died on the floor right in front of her, and she’d been helpless to save him as the botulism choked the breath from his body. Then she’d argued with Gideon, and then she’d yelled at Reid on the metro platform, and she still hadn’t had a conversation with either of them about it.

She figured she should apologize to Gideon, no matter how she felt about who’s fault their terseness was, but she couldn’t bring herself to walk up to his office with her tail between her legs. Everytime she considered it she felt hot rage tug at her gut, burning new all over again. Everyone else allowed her to exist. They didn’t make comments or express their distaste for her out loud. Why did he have to?

“Colghain,” came Hotch’s voice, the man himself standing at the railing overlooking the bullpen. She looked up at him, and he gestured to his office. 

“Oooh,” Morgan teased quietly. “Someone’s in trouble before the meeting even begins.”

She tried to give him a lighthearted chuckle, but it sounded forced in her ears. He was teasing her, and she appreciated it, but she didn’t feel like the conversation she was about to have with Hotch was going to be a particularly lighthearted one. He’d given off too much tightness into the air for that. 

Maybe she was being fired. While it would definitely come as a blow, she wouldn’t have to deal with Gideon’s skeptical and judging eyes on her every time she took a breath.

_ That wouldn’t be that bad, actually. I’d get to be back in the clinic and get my old life back. _

_ But you like this job. _

There was Monty’s voice echoing at her, always the voice of reason in her head, even though she never was in their triplet triad. 

And as always, the Monty in her head was right. Regardless of the way Gideon made her feel like an idiot, and Reid’s sniffling drove her crazy, and Hill’s final breaths haunted her every dream, she really did like her split position.

She liked the way Penelope Garcia came to see her in the bullpen when the team was gone. They’d drink tea together and Kit would listen as she gushed about Morgan. Their friendship was one of a kind, and Kit longed to have any connection on the team like that. 

She enjoyed her conversations with JJ and Elle before they’d started to become fewer and farther between. Both women were younger, especially JJ, and they’d had at least one really good conversation about music between the three of them in the six weeks leading up to that day.

_ Okay Kody, it would be bad. You don’t really want to be in the clinic every day. You like looking at the medical information. You like giving your input. Even if Gideon doesn’t seem to think your opinion is worth a damn, Hotch does. Hotch always has. _

_ Hopefully he’s not firing you. _

When she stepped into Hotch’s office, he gestured to the seat across from his desk.

“Close the door, too, if you would,” he said evenly, the air in the room cold and stern and as stoic as their leader tended to always be. She felt a little better when she noticed that his eyes were still kind, though she had no idea how he managed it.

She did as he asked, shutting the door behind her and sitting down across from him. There was an attempt to pull his calm energy in and use it to replace the anxiety now swirling around her, but no matter how hard she wanted it to work, she still felt exactly like she was back in her high school principal’s office. 

Again.

She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to tell her why she was sitting in his office, full of anxiety, instead of sitting at her desk and finishing her prep for their meeting.

_ If you get fired, there won’t be a meeting. _

“Are you ready for the health meeting today?” Hotch finally asked. His tone was lighter than she expected, and it took her a moment to respond.

_ Not being fired. Okay.  _

“Yes, sir,” she said slowly, “I have my notes prepared.”

“Good.” Hotch nodded, waiting another second before he said, “And, that’ll be in the conference room. Do you have any visuals or need access to the screen?”

She shook her head, skeptical now. Hotch’s body language told her he wanted to ask about something else, but was holding back. How he kept himself so calm and didn’t give anything away impressed her to no end.

“I don’t. I’m trying to keep it short. I know it’s supposed to be forty-five minutes, but I’m sure I can get through it in thirty.” She ended her sentence with a nod, letting a hand drift up to play at the end of her braid. She didn’t tug, mindful of that, but she was the most comfortable with Hotch by a long shot.

He nodded along with her, taking a breath before saying, “I wanted to talk to you about Agent Gideon.”

_ There it is _ .

“Agent Gideon, sir?” She kept her tone light despite the frustration she felt at the mention of his name. 

“Yes. I think it goes without saying that the sort of outburst you shared in New Jersey is unacceptable. The reason I haven’t brought it up until now is because no one was around to see it but me.” He waited a moment before saying, “I don’t blame you for being aggravated. I haven’t missed the way that Agent Gideon approaches you, and in the room with Hill, he was out of line. You are the lead on medical during cases, the position information was very clear, and I understand where your frustration came from. I’ve spoken to him about it.”

Kit’s cheeks warmed at the thought of Hotch having to speak to Gideon about her. To have to come to her rescue like she was some child with hurt feelings. She knew she had been out of line, but knowing she wasn’t the only one being reprimanded for it helped.

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.

“The reason I  _ am _ bringing it up now is because one of your responsibilities is assisting JJ to maintain good rapport with local law. You’re trained to manage people and their feelings in the clinic, and that’s needed, as some of the members on this team, well,” He thought for a moment before deciding to say, “are lacking in that area.”

“You’re talking about Gideon and Reid,” she supplied, and his lips pressed into a firm line.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you meant,” she said, her head tipping to the side. “I wouldn’t say anything to them. I watch the way they interact with others.”

“Then you know that your job is to be the balance.” His posture shifted to sit taller. More authoritative. “And you know that outburst like the one you had in New Jersey will not be tolerated. If something like that happened in front of local law, or in a precinct with officers around and watching, we could misrepresent the bureau.”

Shame washed over her, cold and sharp. She’d expected that, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing. Any less shameful. She could control herself when the nurses in the clinic made mistakes. When they were idiots, or when they questioned her. Why did she have such an adverse reaction when it was Gideon?

_ Because those girls know you. They’ve worked with you and they respect you. Gideon couldn’t give a shit about you or what you think. _

Kit found herself nodding. She didn’t want to disappoint Hotch. She didn’t want to make him question his decision or his trust in her. Her eyes drifted to her hands, now playing at the hem of her shirt. “I understand, sir. I’m sorry I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. I won't let it happen again.”

“Colghain,” Hotch said. His voice was softer than before. “Both cases you’ve worked with us have been a success with  _ your  _ help. You add value to this team.”

“Then why doesn’t Gideon respect me?” Her eyes were hard when they flicked up to meet his. “Why does he act like I’m intruding every time I try to do my job?”

Hotch took a second before shrugging, just slightly. If she wasn’t watching him as closely as she was, she would have missed it. “Gideon doesn’t like change. JJ, then Elle, now you. Give it time.” He glanced down at his watch. “Speaking of time, it’s almost noon. The meeting is at one?”

Kit was well aware of the fact that he knew when the meeting was. He was letting her be in charge of it. Letting her do her job.

“Yes, sir,” she said, standing from her seat. They were done. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

She meant it, hands still for a moment and eyes sincere as they continued to hold his. He nodded, standing as well and coming from behind his desk as he said, “I appreciate you listening. Leave the door open, please.”

Kit nodded once more before making her way to the door, opening it, and walking through. Morgan raised an eyebrow at her as she caught his gaze, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she moved towards the stairs. 

She couldn’t catch a break.

* * *

At one o’clock they filed in. No one looked excited, and Kit couldn’t blame them. Having a compulsory health meeting once or twice a year was bad enough. She  _ gave _ them, and she couldn’t stand them. Being subjected to one every other week? It was work for her, and thirty minutes of their lives they’d never get back.

Gideon was the only one that didn’t sit, opting instead to stand with his hands braced on the back of his chair. Kit didn’t mind, not letting it phase her in the slightest. If he wanted to stand while she talked about the importance of sleep, she quite frankly couldn’t give a shit. She honestly didn’t mind if they all tuned her out for the next half hour. All she needed was for Hotch to write in his post-meeting report that she’d led an informational meeting, about a desired topic, up to standards. They were already behind by quite a number of weeks, and that alone should have placated any worries or annoyances. 

_ Plus, who actually cares right? This has to be the least important part of this job. And it’s a new job, so maybe they'll take away the requirement, and this is the only one I’ll have to do.  _

“Okay,” she started once they all sat down. She wore the same smile and used the same tone she always did in the clinic, and when she’d given health meetings in the past to varying departments. The only ones that smiled back at her were Penelope and JJ, which helped. Some of the tense energy she felt earlier ebbed away, and she started into her lesson. 

“So technically this should be forty five minutes, but I think I can zip it in thirty.”

“Zip it?” Gideon mumbled, his eyebrows pulling together at the phrase. 

She ignored him. “More people voted for ‘Sleep Habits’ than ‘Diet and Nutrition,’ which didn’t surprise me.” She paused, genuinely smiling. “And honestly, now that I’ve traveled on a case that took more than one day, I understand. Sleep is important, especially if you want to stay healthy.”

The room visibly dropped in energy, Elle leaning her face on her hand and Morgan leaning back in his chair. 

It was going to be a long thirty minutes, and they’d barely started. She had to think of something.

It took exactly nineteen minutes for Gideon to say something. That was more than she’d given him credit for in her head, but she was actually almost done, and even Reid had help on without interrupting her once. He’d been more quiet after their interaction at the metro station, and hadn’t engaged with her as much. Which, she didn’t care about. He was Gideon’s chosen one, and she was trouble. 

What she  _ did _ care about was Gideon arguing with her over sleep debt when they were  _ almost done _ and people  _ wanted it to be done _ . 

“That isn’t true,” he’d said, and the world had stopped spinning. There was visible tension in both Hotch and Reid, both sitting just a bit straighter than before. 

Morgan and Elle wore twin expressions of surprise, and JJ and Garcia had a combination of stress and expectancy.

What flooded the room, however, was a feeling that Kit had only ever been able to describe as “Oh No Feeling.” It took a moment for her to get her bearings and swallow down the remark she wanted -  _ shut the hell up, Gideon _ \- and bury the "Oh No Feeling" before she simply nodded 

"It is true," she said, voice staying even. She'd argued with plenty of people in the hospital she and her siblings had started in, and plenty of parents or loved ones when major injuries happened in the academy. 

She was in charge. Hotch told her she was the lead on medical. This was her job. Hotch had her back. Didn't he?

"No, it isn't. One hour of sleep less than is expected isn't going to kill anyone."

"It matters," Kit said, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that he had stood straight and crossed his arms. "Because long term sleep debt can lead to insulin resistance and heart disease. Most adults in America have some level of sleep debt, and I understand why this would be the case for those in a job like this one."

"So you sleep in on the weekends," Gideon argued back, though in his normal flippant way. As if he was correcting a naive child. "You get two good nights and you're good to go."

Kit shook her head, the Oh No Feeling pulling at her gut more firmly as time went on. One hand floated towards her thigh, fingers drumming lightly. 

“Actually, no,” she said, her voice a little more firm, though tone even. She’d delt with worse than Gideon challenging her medically because she was young and they underestimated her. Didn’t respect her. Hotch had her back. Didn’t Hotch have her back?

_ Does he have your back? He’s letting Gideon walk all over you right now. _

“If you lose two hours a night during the week, that’s ten hours of debt. Sleeping an extra three on the weekend still leaves you seven hours short of working at full mental capacity.”

“Which means what? You yawn a few times?”

"Gideon," Hotch warned, but the older man continued.

"Why are we having this meeting in the first place? We're all adults, we don't need to be told for half an hour that sleep is good for you. We know that."

Kit could feel her hands clenched into fists at her side before she could stop them. His words weren’t really aggressive in  _ tone _ as much as they were disrespectful.

_ Hotch talked to him. He said he did. So why is he still doing this? _

“The meeting is mandated as part of Colghain’s position-” Hotch started before Gideon interjected, voice casual. “Which is unnecessary in the first place.”

“And,” Hotch said, never braking face or stride, “the information we’re receiving is valuable.”

Gideon moved back from his spot, just a step away from the table. “What’s valuable is the time of the victims we’re letting be hunted or murdered while a nurse tells us we need to sleep. What about those people, huh? Are they worried about sleep debt?”

“You know what?” Kit said, releasing the grip on her hands and picking up a manila folder off the table with far more force than necessary. Her tone was even and cold, eyes aimed at Gideon alone and she took forms from the folder. “We’re done. I hope-” She slammed a form in front of Elle, who was the closest on her left. 

“You all-” She slammed one in front of JJ. She continued to place a form in front of each member of the team, not breaking stride for a second. “Found this,”  _ Slam. _ “To be,”  _ Slam.  _ “Incredibly,”  _ Slam. _ “Useful,”  _ Slam. _

She looked into Hotch’s eyes, the last form in her hand, and she felt her anger and frustration dissolve.

He was supposed to have her back.

She dropped the form in front of him, shaking her head slightly and scoffing before turning and moving towards the door. Before she could cross the threshold she allowed herself one moment to take a breath. The room was tense. The Oh No Feeling had escalated to full blown surprise and discomfort. She turned and faced them, looking around at them in turn before saying, “I hope this was a valuable use of your time. Please give your feedback, I can’t wait to hear all of your  _ incredibly honest _ opinions. Really.”

She thought for one moment that someone would dare to say something, but she turned and walked away before they could have the chance.

_ I cannot stand this place.  _

* * *

_ Five, four, three, two, one. Breathe. Breathe. Arms. Stride.  _

Kit took the turn wider than she wanted, pushing faster as she neared the end of her sixth lap. She needed to break back under twelve minutes or she was  _ doomed _ . The frustration of the day before was hanging over her, pushing her to be faster, to be  _ better _ , and at one point the night before, to march into Unit Chief Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner’s office and give him a piece of her mind. 

Ari had talked her most of the way down, and by the time he was leaving she’d assured him she wouldn’t do something to get herself fired. 

_ Not yet, anyway. _

She was almost across the lap mark when she heard her name being yelled. Not Colghain, though, and not Kit. Not even Dakota or Kody.

“Lep!”

_ Morgan. _

She hadn’t spoken to him the day before after her swift departure from her own health meeting. She’d sat at her desk with her headphones on, tearing manically through form after form and leaving the second the clock struck five without so much as a word to anyone, including Hotch. 

She should have figured someone would try to talk to her, but when she and Ari had hashed it out the night before, she’d settled on the idea that she’d be approached by Hotch first. Not by Derek Morgan when her guard was down. Selfishly and stupidly she’d completely forgotten that  _ of course _ she’d run into Morgan. She wasn’t the only one at the track. She’d started going to the track half an hour earlier in the mornings  _ because _ she could run or do strength training with someone else. That was the whole basis of their half formed friendship.

One she’d surely destroyed when she’d slammed the post-meeting form in front of him the day before without so much as a glance. 

Kit nearly tripped over her own feet as she turned to look at him, slowing several paces before she darted over the lap line later than she would have wanted. She slowed to a stop before pulling the stopwatch from her jacket pocket, one hand raising it to where she could see while the other crossed to lay over the top of her head.

**12:17**

“I dtigh diabhail,” she swore, breath coming out harder than she thought it should. The stopwatch flew into the grass as she rounded on Morgan. “What?”

He stood there with his bag on his shoulder, one eyebrow raised at her. Confusion. “Is that one of your secret swear words Reid was talking about?”

Her ears burned, air harder to bring back into her lungs when she was embarrassed. They did talk about her behind her back, and Morgan had just outed them.

“It’s not a secret, it’s Gaelic,” she managed between huffs, diverting the focus she had from her embarrassment to evening her breathing. 

“Well what does it mean?”

“Damn it,” she said, moving her hands to her hips. 

Morgan put his hands up in surrender. He was skirting around her. 

_ Great.  _

“You don’t have to tell me.”

She shook her head. “No, it means damn it. Or the Gaelic version of it, anyway.” She shifted her eyes to the stopwatch she’d tossed, her water bottle sideways in the grass. With three steps she snatched it up, standing straight again before asking simply, “So? What do you want?”

Morgan dropped his bag down in the grass near the stopwatch. He was sweating, just like she was, which meant he’d been there a while. He had waited until she was nearly done with her run, though, to get her attention, which told her that he wasn’t looking for a work out partner. 

He was looking to talk.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, gesturing toward her with his right hand. “You were really upset when you left.”

Kit shifted where she stood, taking a sip before dropping her water bottle back onto the ground. Her arms moved up to cross over her chest, though it wasn’t going to help with the last of her breath evening out.

She knew it was defensive to stand that way, but she was being defensive. She didn’t want to talk about it with Morgan. She didn’t want to talk about it with anyone at all. She wanted, really, to go to her shift in the clinic and pretend the day before hadn’t happened at all. To bury it all down inside like she always did, like she always  _ had _ , and deal with the repercussions from Hotch when they would come. If he decided to send her back to the clinic full time, would Ari or Monty be offered her job?

Probably not. She’d probably ruined it for all of them.

“I don’t question anyone’s profiling,” she found herself saying, though she had no intention of devolging any of her inner thoughts to Morgan. 

He looked at her for a moment, and when she risked moving her eyes from the grass to his face, he tilted his head at her, nodding. “And you don’t like that you feel questioned about your stuff.”

“I don’t  _ feel  _ questioned,” she said, shaking her head, “I am questioned. Every move I make. Everything I say. Even input I’m asked for is taken with more than an entire shaker of salt.”

“This is about Gideon,” He said. It wasn’t a question. “Gideon is just…” Morgan looked like he had no idea what he was trying to put into words. “That’s just how he is, Lep. It’s not about you. Don’t take it personally, you know?”

She shook her head, arms tightening in their crossed position. “How could I not take it personally? I... it’s, I-” She groaned, fingers pulling at her sleeves. “It  _ is _ personal, Derek. By nature.”

“By nature?”

She nodded quickly, arms loosening as she started to gesture to nothing in particular, voice a bit tighter as she tried to convey her meaning as clearly as possible. “By nature. If you were being told, directly or indirectly, that you weren’t good enough to do a job you were  _ chosen _ to do, wouldn’t that feel personal?”

Morgan stared at her for a moment, mouth working over words he didn’t quite say. He’d quickly shifted from casual to guilty, and Kit could see the tension working across his face. 

_ He thought this would be easy. That I’d fold. _

“I didn’t think about it like that,” he finally said, “but that would piss me off.”

Kit nodded quickly, shrugging as she felt the dynamic shifting. She could tell he was thinking about it now. “It does,” she said simply. 

She let the air sit for a moment before she sighed, dropping into the grass gently and crossing her legs. 

“I know he talks about me,” she said, watching her fingers as they twisted at a blade of grass in front of her. “When I’m not around. I can tell the difference when you guys travel without me. When you come back, and everyone's a little quieter. A little more distant.”

Morgan stared at her for a moment before he ran a hand down his face, dropping into the grass next to her. 

She was surprised, to say the least. She hadn’t expected him to sit with her. She’d actually expected him to do quite the opposite. To deny what she was saying and say he was going to start his cardio. That she’d see him the next day, and maybe things would shift a little. He’d know she was upset, and he’d know why.

As he sat next to her, he looked around. “He’s just…  _ Gideon _ . I don’t know how to say it any other way. I don’t always agree with him.”

“He thinks I’m trouble,” She said. “My reputation in the bureau has never been anything but positive. I’m literally in a position of authority over an entire shift of nurses, most of which are older than I am.”

“Maybe he just thinks it’s a bad choice by the bureau,” Morgan said, catching her eyes, “Not  _ you _ , but your job. Like we’re being steamrolled or something.”

“What?” she asked, “Like you’re being watched or something?”

“Yeah.” He gestured towards her. “It’s a weird time for them to add another person to the team. We didn’t get Elle very long ago. I’ll be honest, that was something that ran through my mind when you showed up, too.”

“Well, I’m not doing that. You can all read my list of duties” She said. “I’m around for a very specific purpose. Ask anyone. Ask Hotch. Ask Ramos. The director himself, I don’t care.”

There was heat crawling across her face, and her grip on the grass was getting tighter as a weight started to settle in her gut. 

“Oh, I asked around,” Morgan said, “I know some people in the clinic. And in the field training sector.”

Kit let out a humorless laugh. Gideon was the loudest, but they all really  _ were _ checking into her. “So, none of you trust me?”

“Hotch does,” Morgan said immediately. “And I do. And JJ, for sure. She was telling me that she was impressed with you after we were in New Jersey.”

She shook her head slowly, finding that she’d scoffed out loud. “New Jersey. I yelled at Gideon. When Hill was dying, I was trying to direct Hotch and handle it and he was just-” She cut herself off with a quiet growl. “He was  _ in the way _ . He kept trying to, I don’t know. Take over. As if I don’t know how to do my job.”

They were quiet before she said, “Did you know that I worked in an ER? Before we joined the academy?”

Morgan shook his head. “No.”

“I did. Monty and I worked the same twelve, and Ari worked nights. He’s always worked nights.” She looked off towards the locker room, knowing she needed to go soon, but finding herself continuing. “We were nineteen. Graduated high school early so we could get out of Vermont, and there was a program at our high school that got us a direct line to nursing school. All three of us. Worked in college to finish as quickly as possible and move on with our lives.”

She shifted, tucking her legs underneath her. “And then we worked in an ER here in the district. Ginny and Wash live here, too. Or at least they did. We slept on the floor at Ginny’s for months, and then at Wash’s when he was deployed.” She turned, looking Morgan directly in the eye. “And we worked our asses off. And Monty and I did school at night so we could get our masters, and Ari did it during the day. We got promoted. And it was  _ hard.  _ But we did it together.”

Morgan nodded after a moment, Kit having stopped to give space and try to right herself.

"And then what? You joined the academy together?"

She nodded. "It was our supervisor's idea. At the hospital. We were young,  _ really young, _ but since we were already here in DC it was streamlined. Our supervisor used to be a field medic for the bureau, so his recommendation meant everything."

She shrugged with finality. "I'm good at my job. I've always been good at my job, and I've proven it again and again. I don't need to prove it to Gideon, too."

"You should tell him that," Morgan offered, and Kit had to stop herself from laughing in his face.

"Right."

"You just told me, so tell him."

He was being genuine. There was no sense of sarcasm, no sense of mocking or joking. 

"You really think I should?"

"Couldn't hurt, right?"

She sighed before nodding, working it over in her head.

_ Couldn't hurt, right?  _

_ Unless Gideon says he doesn't care, and that I'm an idiot. That it doesn't matter how hard I've worked. How good at my job I am. _

"Couldn't hurt," she heard herself say. She sighed, grabbing her stopwatch and water bottle and stuffing them in her bag. "I need to go."

"Sure. You're in the clinic today right?"

He knew the answer, but it was nice of him to ask.

"Yeah, back upstairs tomorrow."

"Well, see you then, Lep."

_ Lep. _

She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder and rocking her weight.

"Hey, Derek?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, but there was a small smile on her face. She never called him Derek. "Yeah?"

_ Don't ask him. Don't do it, Kody. _

"We're… friends, right?"

_ Kill me where I stand. _

He chuckled before nodding up at her. "Yeah, Lep. We're friends."

The weight that had settled inside her gut seemed to lift, and she found a genuine smile creep across her face. He'd listened,  _ really listened,  _ and it seemed that he'd understood.

"Cool… great. See you tomorrow."

She turned and moved away from him quickly, the smile on her face never fading. She had one friend, and Morgan had said Hotch trusted her. And apparently so did JJ. 

That was nearly the team, and she knew Garcia didn't mind her. They hadn't worked together, per say, as their fields crossed so infrequently, but she liked talking to the brightly dressed woman, and she'd never gotten a bad feeling from her.

She could talk to Gideon. Morgan would have her back, and while she was frustrated with Hotch, he  _ had _ spoken up in the meeting. She'd talk to him, in his office, on Friday. She could do that.

* * *

Confident was how she'd always felt in the clinic, and after her talk with Morgan and a full day working her shift, she felt a million times better than she had leaving the BAU the day before. 

"If the emotional backlash is going to be this bad, is it worth it?" Monty asked her. They were both in the breakroom, Kit grabbing her backpack and Monty leaning against the counter, civilian clothes on. Normally she would be depositing her bag into the locker as Kit emptied it. They'd always shared a locker, and the combination had been an easy choice: Carolina's birthday.

"I had a good talk with Morgan-"

"Oh! Antibiotics guy!"

"Stop! We talked this morning, at the track. It was good, I think."

Monty rolled her eyes quickly, identical irises meeting. "You think. That's reassuring, isn't it."

"Oh, múchadh, Montana."

"I won't!"

Kit felt like the tables had been turned. Monty was the one that got frustrated and loud, just like she did in the BAU. Here in the clinic, her words were as even as Morgan's had been. Atmosphere had always mattered in their behavior, and as they stood in their shared space, there was no exception.

"He affirmed me, Mont, why would that be bad? Why would that not help?"

She played with the hem of her scrubs, her eyebrows pulling together as she searched her twin's feelings. Monty was good at masking, and Kit hated it.

"It's not bad." Monty had slipped into Gaelic now, eyes darting for others around them, even though the room was otherwise unoccupied."But I think you need to be careful. If you go and talk to that idiot-"

" _ Monty _ -"

"You should do it with Agent Hotchner in the room. Don't give him a chance to belittle you."

Kit sighed, moving a hand to tug at the end of her braid. It was fraying, and she'd have to take it out soon. "I don't need backup, Mont. I'm a big girl. I stood up for myself, remember?"

Monty laughed, running a hand through her loose hair. "Yeah, and then last night Ari had to talk you down over it."

Kit rolled her eyes, starting to undo her braids. "Well," she said, "that's because I thought I might be fired. Or, that I might do something drastic, like quit."

She finished combing the braids out with her fingers, looking at Monty and laughing quietly. "I wouldn't, would I?"

Monty shook her head, pulling a drawstring bag from behind her and passing it over.

"Never. You like the stiffs. You're one of them now."

" _ Never. _ " Kit assured, taking the bag and opening it to find her civilian clothes. She scoffed at what she saw, raising an eyebrow and looking up as if looking in a mirror. "Why these?"

"Lighter set. Leave your hair."

"Lighter set?"

"Ari made the list. We haven't had time to learn anything new with your fancy job,  _ Special Agent Colghain. _ "

Kit smacked at Monty, both sisters giving into peals of harmonizing laughter. 

“You know,” Kit said, tugging at her left shirtsleeve, “We haven’t played in a while.” She gauged Monty’s reaction, knowing  _ she _ was the reason in the first place. 

Monty simply smiled, squeezing Kit’s shoulder gently. “Sure, but Leeland said that we can have our spot back, now that you’ve settled a bit.” She turned Kit around, pushing her towards the bathroom in the corner of the breakroom. “Now go, sound check is at seven, and I want to eat.”

Kit stumbled a bit as she was pushed, but nodded and moved towards the bathroom with quick strides. Once she shut the door she looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. She was still an even tempered nurse. Monty had her back. Morgan had her back. She could talk to Gideon, and she would. On Friday.

And as she looked down at the bag of clothes in her hand, she realized that she was still  _ her,  _ too. Thursday nights could still be theirs, and clinic shifts could still end with her and Monty, laughing in the breakroom.


	7. The World Outside Calling Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Section Chief Ramos is the least helpful person on the planet, Kit and Hotch have a ridiculously uncomfortable conversation, and Gideon finally confronts nobody's favorite liaison/nurse.   
> or  
> In which Kit feels really lost, really sad, and really unsure of her job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this took forever and I'd apologize, but also, I'm teaching in a pandemic, so I figured I'd give myself some grace. Things have calmed down considerably, so I'm looking to get back to a more normal posting schedule.  
> If you're reading this, you have a special place in my heart, and I love you.  
> Comments/questions always loved and appreciated, no matter what they may be!

She would have rather been anywhere else. She would have rather been in Gideon’s office being chewed out for speaking out of turn, or back in the ER during flu season, or facing down an unsub without Morgan.

Anywhere but in front of Section Chief Ramos’s office door, tapping her foot and clenching and unclenching her fingers. She needed to stop messing with the seams on her scrub pants - they were starting to wear - but she didn’t want him to open the door and see her pulling at her hair. She did a good job of masking her quirks and outlets for her pent up energy in the clinic with everything moving at such a rapid pace, but standing in front of the door, waiting for it to open? That was torture. Regardless of the fact that Ramos chose her to represent the clinic, and therefore the health department, as part of the Health Liaison trial run, she knew he didn’t like her very much. 

Ramos didn’t like anyone very much.

He let her stand like that for seven minutes before the door opened. Ramos wasn’t exactly a large man. He had nothing on Hotch, who towered like a giant over her and gave off every vibe you would expect from someone in the FBI. Instead, his entire intimidating demeanor was in his eyes. Eyes that were glaring right at her.

“Nurse Colghain,” he said. There was no hint of kindness about him. “Come in.”

She followed him into the room and sat where he directed. His office was more clinical than Hotch’s, which she guessed made sense considering he was the Health Department/Academy Clinic’s Section Chief, but still. He could use some pictures of the wife he was rumored to have. Instead, he had plaques and other achievements around. Egotistical. Narcissistic. She gave a minute shake of her head to will the thoughts away.

_ I need to spend less time with the profilers. _

“This is your monthly review,” he said, jarring her from her thoughts. She nodded, unsure of what else to do. When he didn’t continue right away she awkwardly nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

“You began the pilot Health and Wellness Liaison position on January tenth. Today’s date is February twenty second. In this meeting we will review position requirements, health meeting reviews, and you will give a report of duties and activities you have been able to complete in this time, as well as any other pertinent information to assess the validity of this pilot position. Do you understand the purpose of this meeting?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, looking down to see a small device with a red light blinking sitting right next to his hand.

_ Ah. _

He was recording it. Ramos was formal, but not  _ that _ formal. She wondered who would hear what she was about to say.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good. Let’s begin.”

The first part was easy. Just reviewing her position requirements, which she’d long since memorized for both her Head position, and her position at the BAU. Normally they had quarterly reviews, but because of the infancy of her position, Kit had been notified they would be monthly “until further notice.” She assumed that would mean they would be more like a check-in. Shorter.

She was so incredibly mistaken.

After the first part Ramos leaned back in his chair, something shifting in his eyes and the atmosphere in the room. He was smug. As if he’d caught her in a trap. 

“Nurse Colghain,” he said with a little too much confidence. Not Agent Colghain, like Hotch would have said. Nurse. Which, while it was a title she was proud of, he didn’t even call her  _ Head _ Nurse. Just nurse. One of nearly fifty on staff. Insignificant. Replaceable.

“Please tell me how many Health and Wellness meetings you are required to give a month.”

“Two, sir,” she answered easily. “Every other week, if cases allow, but two a month.”

Ramos nodded, something like mirth cutting across his face. “Then tell me, Nurse Colghain, why have you only held one meeting in nearly six weeks?”

She stared at him for a moment before blinking. “As I said, sir,” she started cautiously. She was being recorded. She would defend herself professionally. “Every other week, if cases allow. As we said before, I’m required to travel for cases related to medical, as well as others, in order to be present for twenty-five percent of out of town cases.”

“And those cases made it impossible for two health meetings to happen over a six week period?”

He was right. She could have made it work, but between Gideon and them going on cases without her, it was hard to find the courage to force the BAU team to sit down and listen to her harp on  _ diet _ for any length of time. They were busy. She’d seen first hand how their cases wore on them. She’d experienced the wear herself. 

“It wasn’t practical based on the number of cases over the last six weeks to take time away from either reports or research for a meeting about one of the approved health topics.”

“Wasn’t practical?”

“No, sir,” She said, voice becoming quieter and more timid as Ramos’s presence in the room seemed to increase. A hand ran over the outside seam on the leg of her scrubs. It itched to tug gently at her braid, but she didn’t dare. 

He let there be silence for a moment before he leaned forward towards her. His eyes had narrowed. “Twenty-five percent of cases, Nurse Colghain. That leaves seventy-five percent of your time free to plan and execute the required health meetings.”

She shook her head. “Sir, it’s twenty-five percent of out of town cases. My original duties stated I was to be a part of all in town cases.”

He scoffed. “And what percentage of your time would you say is taken up by cases, in general?”

“Thirty seven percent.”

Ramos looked stunned, and Kit gave herself one moment to be glad she’d been listening to Reid the Friday before when he was rattling off percentages for her. She’d asked because she was worried she would be under the twenty five percent minimum, and was pleasantly surprised to learn she was over. 

“That leaves-”

“Plus,” she continued, not letting him get ahead of her, “My team travels on cases without me, too. They were gone another thirty seven percent of the days in the last six weeks, which means that even if I was preparing for a meeting, they weren’t there for me to give it. And we spent three days working on a consultation, which was medical related, and filling out reports for a poisoning case in New Jersey. That’s what, fifteen, sixteen percent? And SSA Hotchner was out one day, which only leaves five-”

“Nurse Colghain,” he warned, “I believe you are far too comfortable. Throwing around percentages as if I am unaware of how you spend your time based on the reports you submit to me.”

She blinked at him for a moment, deflating. The confidence she had spouting numbers withered away under his glare. “But, you- you asked for the percentage.”

“For one. I don’t need a math lesson from a clinic nurse.”

_ Ouch. _

She crossed her arms over her chest, staring down at her knees and staying quiet. She wanted  _ out _ of Ramos’s office. Back to the clinic where she knew she wouldn’t be questioned. 

“This month, I expect three meetings.”

Her eyes snapped up, jaw falling open. “Sir?”

“Three, Nurse Colghain.”

“But-”

“Full reports and reviews. Understood?”

She stared at him for a moment before nodding her head in submission. She wasn’t going to win an argument with Ramos without getting written up, and it wasn’t worth it to aggravate an already aggressive situation.

“Understood?” He repeated with a little more force, and she found her resolve buckling under his harsh tone.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Let’s talk about the meeting you  _ were  _ able to have.”

_ Let’s talk about literally anything else. Let’s go back to arguing over correct percentages and health meetings that haven’t happened yet. Let me, I don’t know, punch myself in the face repeatedly instead. _

_ Íosa Críost, Kody. Dramatic much? _

“The Health and Wellness meeting regarding sleep, sir?” She asked tentatively. Ramos wrote for a while before he addressed her again, setting his pen down and pulling out seven forms from a manila folder. The review surveys filled out by the BAU team.

“Yes. I have the reviews here, written by the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and I will be honest in telling you that the director was… surprised by the results.”

Her heart sank. Surprised couldn’t be good and with the way she’d slammed the forms onto the table in front of them all and stormed off without a word. It hadn’t quite been a week, and they had gone on a case without her on Sunday afternoon. She hadn’t seen them since the Friday after it had happened.

She’d kept to herself, too, and had chickened out of talking to Gideon, telling herself she had meetings to plan and case reports to finish. Morgan had been the only one to try to talk to her, even offering to go to Gideon with her, but she’d declined, and the only reason she’d spoken to Reid was to get the percentages that Ramos had just ostracized her for.

Her tantrum of sorts was embarrassing at best, and after she worked a whole clinic shift, did a full set with her cúpla at the bar, and slept on it, she wasn’t really ready to face him. Any of them. It had been a relief when she’d shown up to the office and found that they’d flown off to Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska, population five dead girls and a terrified town.

Kit sat forward in her chair, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Surprised, sir?”

Ramos nodded, face morphing as he gave off a wave of annoyance. “Yes, pleasantly surprised. It isn’t often that a meeting ends with a positivity rating of one hundred percent.”

Kit’s eyebrows pulled together as her jaw went slack, eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to process what he’d said. One hundred percent positivity rating. How was that possible?

“I don’t understand, sir,” she finally said, “All of them? They were all positive?”

He nodded, though looked as if it truly pained him to do so. “Yes. All seven reviews were positive regarding your content and professionalism. Some more positive than others, of course, but all positive.”

“Even Gideon’s?” She said before she could stop herself, not believing what she was hearing. There was no way that Gideon had given her a positive review. There was no way that  _ anyone _ had given her a positive review. She’d argued with him. She’d slammed the surveys into the round table and abruptly finished their meeting before stomping out. She had to be missing something. Or, being punked. Did the FBI punk people?

Ramos raised an eyebrow at her. “I cannot show you the reports, as it’s a matter of confidentiality, but yes. SSA Gideon is a part of the BAU team, which would mean that his review survey of your meeting was positive.”

It should have made her feel better. It should have made her feel good to hear that Gideon, who she was sure without a doubt hated her, gave her a positive meeting review. Especially considering the fact that he was the one she had been arguing with before she so ceremoniously took her leave. She should have been settled, and put at peace over it.

It should have made her feel better.

It didn’t.

It pissed her off. 

Lying to fit the mold didn’t seem to be Gideon’s style, and the fact that he’d done it, to  _ her _ , made her furious.

“Are we done here?” She spouted without thinking. She suddenly felt like she was vibrating, and she needed out of Ramos’s clinical office and the uncomfortable chair she was sitting in. 

He sighed, setting down the review surveys and folding his hands on top of them.

“I have one last thing.”

She shifted in the chair, but stayed quiet. The longer she was quiet and listened, the faster she could probably leave. Anger pulsed through her chest, and she knew exactly where it was going once she was done listening to whatever annoying thing Ramos wanted to finish with.

“Before, you said  _ my team _ in reference to the BAU.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, sir.”

“They are not your team. You are not a part of their team.”

She watched as his eyes went hard, his voice slow and simple as if he was explaining something to a child. Some of the ice that had hardened over her heart started to melt, her anger ebbing slightly as her chest started to swim in the melting slurry. 

“I’m sorry?” She asked.

“You are not a part of their team. You are a part of the health department. The clinic staff.”

“But,” she started, “Hotch said-”

“SSA Hotchner is your point of contact for the BAU. He isn’t your supervisor. I am. You report to me. And you, Nurse Colghain, are separate. A liaison. A connecting point. Not a part of the disorganized, ridiculous mess the Behavioral Analysis Unit has become.”

“The BAU is full of incredibly talented people.”

_ Morgan. Elle. Hotch. Reid. _

She’d seen them work first hand, many times in her six weeks with them, and she was always confused as to why people didn’t seem to understand the magnificence of what they did. She could read people’s emotions, sure, and very well. She’d give herself that. But what they did? What each one of them did? It impressed her to no end. Even Gideon, when he wasn’t pissing her off, was an incredible profiler to watch.

“The BAU worries about finding maniacs,” Ramos said dismissively. “You worry about keeping people alive.”

She shook her head, sitting straight up in her chair. “Profiling keeps people alive.”

Ramos shrugged, clicking off the recorder before looking her dead in the eyes. “And you are not a profiler, Nurse Colghain. You are a nurse. Right now, you’re splitting two positions, and not doing one incredibly well. A questionable liaison. Arguably, a decent nurse.”

_ Questionable. Arguably decent. _

“They are a team,” he continued. “You are a clinic nurse, and you will never be more than that. Do I make myself clear?”

Kit let her eyes hold his for a moment. Every bit of her icy anger had melted, leaving her feeling upset, and sloshy, and confused. Hotch assured her all the time that she was a part of their team, but Ramos was her supervisor. He was in charge of her position, and he told her she wasn’t a part of the BAU team. She never would be. She didn’t belong.

She didn’t feel like she belonged in the clinic anymore, either. Between only being there three days a week, once on the weekend when she’d never worked that rotation before, and the traveling for cases that sometimes took more than one day, she had lost some of the “home” feeling she associated with the clinic and her nurses.

_ I don’t belong much of anywhere. _

“Yes, sir.”

She finished her clinic shift quietly. That wasn’t necessarily unusual. Unlike the last six weeks in the BAU, the clinic was never something new. Always something different, but never anything that was surprising or particularly stressful. She could spend days upon days quietly directing with very few words, saving the most gentle and caring ones for younger academy cadets that were very far away from home and either sick or broken. Something about nursing softened her. It always had.

The BAU did the opposite. Somehow, in only six weeks, it had brought a part of her out that she hadn’t known for a long time. The part that smoked cigarettes under the bleachers during study hall and complained loud and long about music lessons and stepdance, though she secretly loved both. That wore dark lipstick so she wouldn’t look  _ just like _ Monty. Who had more detentions than both her cúpla, though both Ari and Monty had their fair share. 

The BAU brought out the part of her that argued. That fidgeted and got frustrated and stood up for herself. The part of her that was confident. The part of her that was trouble.

While her rebellious nature had taken time to soften all those years ago, Ramos had stripped her of its reprise in an hour's time. She stood for far too long after her shift was over, staring at the outside of the locker she shared with Monty. She’d dodged her twin by hiding in the bathroom until five o’clock had come and gone. The chipped paint of their shared space was partially covered by the plastic name plate that sat in the top middle, reading, “D. Colghain / M. Colghain.” 

They’d requested to share a locker, and now three days a week, it was empty when Monty came. They didn’t get to meet in the break room and exchange quips back and forth before Monty had to work, and Kit had to go home without having seen her other half, the fire to her ice, before she figured out something for Ari and her to eat, plunging into sleep before he could ask her about the things she saw with the BAU.

So, after her meeting with Ramos, and the rest of her shift, Kit had been sure to clear out long before Monty was there. She didn’t want to talk to Monty, because Monty didn’t get it. No one really could. She was in a strange position that not one person had been in before, and all Monty would do was remind her that the clinic was her home, like Ramos had, even though the clinic didn’t feel entirely like home anymore.

She didn’t belong at the BAU. She never would. Ramos made it very clear she wasn’t supposed to let herself.

_ What the hell am I doing? What am I supposed to do?  _

_ You could talk to Hotch, Kody. He has kind eyes. He’s nothing like Ramos. _

Ramos’s words echoed in her ears.

_ SSA Hotchner is your point of contact for the BAU. He isn’t your supervisor. I am. You report to me. And you, Nurse Colghain, are separate. _

“What the hell am I going to do?” she mumbled in her mother tongue, staring at the locker a few minutes longer before she started for the metro station.

* * *

Kit stood outside the glass doors the next morning earlier than she normally would. Instead of the anger she felt the day before in Ramos’s office, anxiety lived in her chest. She’d popped her fingers so many times the night before that they were sore, and she was thankful it was still February so she could wear a thick sweater that covered the red marks she’d scratched into her forearms. She hadn’t realized she’d been doing it, and while it hadn’t gone on enough to draw blood, they’d stung in the shower and looked much more angry than they felt. She usually pushed up the sleeves of her sweaters and cardigans, because she hated the way the cuffs felt around her wrists, but she had already mentally prepared herself to leave them down and deal with the annoyance all day.

Time passed faster than she thought it would, and when she was grabbed gently by the shoulder she jolted, turning and shifting into a defensive position without having to think. It didn’t reach her that she was fairly unlikely to be attacked on the sixth floor of their FBI building, but Hotch was clearly unphased by her reaction, hands up in front of him to signal his intent.

“Sorry, I called your name twice,” he said evenly. “I could tell you weren’t quite grounded.”

She took a breath before relaxing, hands coming not down to her sides, but to settle on top of her backpack straps. Her hands clutched tightly around them, and she took another breath before saying, “I um. I wasn’t. Thanks.”

Hotch nodded, picking up his briefcase from the ground and nodding towards the double doors she had just been staring at. She followed behind him as he walked through the door. “How was your meeting with Ramos?” He asked, clearly attempting to be casual. While it should have made her feel good, and included, it just made the weight that had been vibrating around her chest settle deeper.

_ You aren’t included, Kody. You’re separate. _

“It was informative.” 

“Anything I need to know?” he asked as they walked. The casual, conversational tone of his voice sounded less forced than before, and it made her chest feel tighter and tighter as their steps synced. Six weeks didn’t seem like a long time, but she felt like she’d been splitting with the BAU a lot longer. 

She needed to force that all down and away.

“No, Agent Hotchner. Though, I will be required to give three talks by the end of March. We were short last month, and Section Chief Ramos made it very clear that it’s unacceptable.”

Hotch stopped short, turning and raising an eyebrow at her. She didn’t call him Agent Hotchner, she hadn’t in six weeks. The confusion and concern coming off of him set the weight in her chest even deeper, and she worried at her lip between her bottom teeth as she waited for him to affirm her request.

“Of course,” he finally said, “Though that should be on me. It was a busy month, but I should have made time.”

“No, Chief Ramos made it very clear that it’s my responsibility. I’d like to do one this week, if possible. Friday, if your team isn’t on a case.”

Hotch looked at her with searching eyes, and she could tell he was profiling her. She didn’t need to ask, she knew the look by then. They all had one, and this was Hotch’s.

_ There’s no inter-team profiling. Even he agrees with Ramos. _

“Is there something bothering you, Colghain?” He asked finally, both of them stopped in their tracks. “Something Ramos said?”

She shook her head quickly. If she said something, she would probably get in trouble. She reported to Ramos, not Hotch, and it was clear she was on thin ice.

“No, sir. I just want to do my job well.”

“Is it Gideon?” He continued, dropping his voice though there was no one else in the bullpen. It was too early. “I spoke with him about the meeting last week. He said he would talk to you once we got back, but if you need me to-”

“No,” she said quickly. There was more force behind her words than she intended, and she watched as Hotch shifted from offensive, to defensive. “No, thank you,” she tried again, softening both her tongue and her body language. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“If Ramos made you uncomfortable-”

“Stop.”

Kit shook her head too quickly at him, watching the miniscule shift in his face. He’d flooded the space around them with a level of concern she couldn’t handle. She couldn’t have him care about her.

He shouldn’t care about her. She wasn’t one of his to worry about.

She fiddled with her fingers, letting her hands tug at her sleeves, but not push them up. “Listen, Agent Hotchner, I appreciate your assurance that I’m a part of this team, but I’d like you to stop telling me that.”

His eyebrows came together, eyes softening. “Kit, you  _ are _ a member of my team.”

“But I’m not. I’m a liaison from the health department.” 

He shrugged at her, shaking his head and gesturing towards JJ’s empty office. “JJ is a liaison from the communications department.”

Kit shook her head, giving a sad smile and waving him off. “It’s different.”

She didn't want to tell him about Ramos. It would be like tattling, and they were FBI agents, not kindergarteners. As far as she knew, Hotch was JJ’s supervisor. She was a part of them. Kit was separate.

“I don’t see how it’s different,” he said, “but if you really feel that way, know that it isn’t on our end. By isolating yourself, you’re creating a barrier.”

“I thought we didn’t profile one another,” she said, feeling annoyance start to dance inside her chest. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what Ramos had said.

_ What if Ramos is full of shit? _

_ What if  _ Hotch _ is full of shit? _

He simply raised an eyebrow. 

“The rule is on inter-team profiling. Did you not just say you weren’t a part of my team?”

She stared him straight in the eyes for a moment. The air around him had settled into the feeling she probably hated most of all.

Pity.

She latched her hands to the backpack straps over her shoulders to keep herself from pulling down hard on her twin braids.

“I need to prepare for the health meeting on Friday. We’ll do one in the afternoon. I’ll see you at the morning briefing.”

She turned away from him and walked to her desk without letting him respond to her, and she knew it was petty, but she didn’t need Hotch’s pity. She didn’t need anyone’s pity.

She could do grief, and anger, and fear all day. She could handle trauma, and regret, and incredible sadness. Illness. Confusion and skepticism.

She hated pity.

She didn't need anyone to pity her. The middle child of nine. The rebel. The decent nurse. 

Trouble.

She didn't need it. Not from Hotch.

And she didn't need him to see the tears of frustration and self loathing pooling on her lashline.

She’d clearly gotten too big for her britches, and Ramos had helped bring her back down to earth. She wasn’t a stiff. She was a nurse. That’s all she’d ever be.

* * *

“Colghain.”

Kit looked up from the papers in front of her to Gideon’s even voice. He was looking at her with the same intensity he always wore, beckoning at her with one of his hands before walking back into his office without another word.

She raised an eyebrow, significant anxiety flooding into her chest. She didn’t want to deal with it. She’d already had a conversation with Hotch that she didn’t want to have. She’d had a conversation with Ramos the day before that left her upset and self-loathing and desperate to feel like she belonged somewhere she most certainly did not belong, and never could, and never  _ would _ .

_ And,  _ Kit had avoided having a conversation with Gideon at every turn. She’d perfected it, as far as she was concerned. Hotch had tried to make them talk, and they’d either argued, or she’d avoided it completely. She didn’t want to have an actual conversation with Gideon. She hated Gideon. He hated her. 

Why would he ever want to actually confront the issue?

“You better go, Lep,” Morgan said casually, flipping through a file. He looked exhausted. They all did.

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

“What happened to the girl that was like, ‘oh yeah, I’ll talk to him tomorrow,’ like, a week ago? Scared?” He teased, swapping his voice to a higher pitch in an imitation of her.

Despite the frustration she’d found with Hotch that morning, and the dread that flooded through her at the realization that she  _ shouldn’t _ be getting close to anyone on the BAU team, she found herself smiling and rolling her eyes at the man in front of her. Morgan was different. He’d said it himself that they were friends, and Kit didn’t think that meant just at work. After all, they trained together on mornings she worked her clinic shifts, too.

“Oh, belt it, Morgan. I saw that you didn’t get a flu shot this year, are  _ you _ scared of something? Needles?”

She’d been waiting on that one, but he just chuckled and shook his head. “No, that’s pretty ricky over there. I don’t need a flu shot. Immune system of a champion.”

Kit had to bite her tongue in order to keep from calling him “Antibiotics Guy” out loud, settling for rolling her own eyes and standing up from her chair. 

“Sure, Morgan. We’ll see. Will you back me up if you hear screaming?” She asked, the nervous energy never leaving her as she stood to face the music. Maybe they’d fight and she’d get fired. It would sure make being a part of just the clinic an easier feat. 

She’d never worried about getting fired this often in her life, even when she was nineteen years old and working trauma in the ER. It surprised her how calmly she considered it as her weeks with the BAU added up.

He chuckled and nodded at her, turning back to his file and speaking with his eyes on the page in front of him. “Sure thing. Hey, can I have your desk space if he roasts you to a fine crisp? I like to spread out.”

“Oh, múchadh, Der.”

“I don’t know what that means!” He taunted, but she didn’t turn back around. She was already steeling herself for battle.

Gideon was sitting at his desk, glasses on, and didn’t look up when she entered his office. She stood there for a moment before she knocked on the door frame.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, sit down,” he mumbled, scribbling something in his notebook.

As bad as she wanted to tell him no, she would definitely not sit down, she could hear Hotch’s voice echoing in her mind.

_ I spoke with him about the meeting last week. He said he would talk to you once we got back. _

The BAU team was back, and now, she needed to sit and listen to whatever it was that Gideon had to say.

_ You’re just a nurse after all.  _ You  _ should be the one apologizing. _

“Gideon-”

“Colghain, I’m going to be honest, I don’t like that you’re here.”

_ Wow. _

“Okay?” she said, dejected confusion on her tongue. Gideon wasn’t oozing annoyance or frustration like he usually was, but she couldn’t read him. He was almost apathetic. He wasn't even looking at her.

“The bureau forcing a new position like this says that they don’t trust units to manage themselves.”

Kit thought about that for a moment. She’d heard that from Morgan, and she understood why he would feel that way. He was a senior agent. He’d come back into the field after being on medical leave. She’d actually been one of the nurses that had read over his file before they would clear him to go back to work. Gideon had been in the BAU since its conception, and it made sense that he didn't like change.

"What about JJ?"

"Pardon?"

He looked up then, the tendrils of his confusion tugging at her skin.

Kit kept her train of thought. "JJ came from the communications department. She was a new position at some point, but you seem to get along with her just fine. You trust her."

"JJ isn't interested in anything but her position," he said simply. "And she’s proven that she does it very well."

"I'm not interested in anything but my position, either," she said. She felt like she was gaining some footing. “And, as of the last six weeks, I feel like I’ve shown that I can do my position well. Or at least, I can when I’m being allowed to do it.”

“Your position as a babysitter?”

“My position as an expert in my field.”

Their eyes were locked now; Gideon’s unwavering, Kit’s challenging. 

“My job is to keep the team healthy, inform you all about healthful practices, go on takedowns, and give my input on cases that need it.”

“Reid knows anything your input could give us.”

“Not when he’s running a fever and trying to think straight while masking from you all.”

Gideon’s face shifted for a fraction of a second, but the concern that flooded the room told her she had the upper hand.

_ Good, asshole. _

“Which you didn’t know, did you? In New Jersey. Not only was I reading tox screens and dealing with pushback at every turn,  _ from you _ , on a case that was medically  _ mine _ . I was also managing the symptoms of your protégé, who if you hadn’t noticed, has the constitution of a wet piece of cardboard.”

Gideon was on the defensive now, standing up from his chair. “We had an unsub to worry about. Reid can take care of himself.”

Kit stood from her seat to match him. She didn’t report to Gideon. She wasn’t on his team. He was on Hotch’s, and as far as she was concerned, she didn’t have to give in to him. They weren’t on the same team at all.

“And while on that case, regardless of you trying to step in and do my job regarding Hill, I still managed to take care of Reid, give valuable information about botulism and rohypnol,  _ and _ get our foot in the door at the hospital.”

Gideon didn’t respond for a moment, and while it probably wasn’t a good idea, Kit kept going.

“ _ And _ , just so you know, I don’t appreciate you lying for me on official documents. I’m a professional, and I’m damn good at my job.” All the things she’d talked to Morgan about were flooding back.

_ You just told me, so tell him. _

That’s what he’d said.

Maybe she would.

She laughed once. “I’m good at my job. I proved it to the Health Department. My siblings and I are the youngest Head Nurses the clinic’s ever seen. We were the youngest in the history of the hospital we were at before that. Hell, the  _ Director _ sees my files directly, and was on the team that selected me for this position.  _ Me _ , not either of my cúpla.”

She watched him for a moment before she added, venom on her tongue, “I’ve proved myself again and again. I don’t have to prove it anymore. Not to you.”

“I didn’t lie,” was all he said, though his apathy had melted. There was something else there. Something she couldn’t place.

“What?”

“I didn’t lie on any official documents. Never have.”

She blinked at him for a moment. 

_ The survey, you idiot. _

“You gave me a positive review of my health meeting. The one you very specifically stopped before I was done to tell me I was wrong, and then argued with Hotch that I was wasting your time.”

He shrugged, pacing to the window and peering into the February air. “My personal feelings about the necessity, or existence, of your health meeting on sleep don’t change my opinion of your delivery. During the meeting, until I interrupted and jibbed, you were incredibly knowledgeable and professional. You were concise.” He shrugged again. “It was the best delivered health meeting I’ve been a part of during my time with the bureau.”

She stared at him for a moment, face working through a plethora of emotions before she settled on annoyance. “Then why in the hell,” she started, “would you have interrupted me?”

“Principle,” he said simply. “Understand, Colghain, I have an issue with your position. I also have an issue with the fact that you profile as a reformed rebel, and the sort of restless trouble that lies behind your eyes tells me you never really left it in your past. You’ve repressed it. You’ve buried it. You mask it in the clinic, and you’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to mask it around this team.” 

_ What the hell sort of inter-team profiling is that? _

_ You’re not on his team. You aren’t on the same team at all. _

“As a person,” he said finally, sitting down in his chair, “I don’t mind you. Elle is a rebel in her own right, and I think it helps her in this job. As a position, yours is one I don’t care for, and don’t anticipate lasting very long. Hotch would like us to get along better, which I’m not opposed to. If you stay out of the way of the profilers, I have no issue with you being here. As a member of the team, I worry that you’re in over your head. Mind your temper.”

“I’m not a member of the team,” she said automatically, though she didn’t sit to match him. “I’m separate.”

“Even better,” he agreed, picking back up his notebook and gesturing towards the door. “That’s it. You can go.”

_ Is he… dismissing me? _

The likeness to her high school principal ignited in her chest like heartburn, and shook her head. “If you stay out of the way of my duties and contributions, I have no issue with you, either.” 

She stood for a few seconds before turning towards the door. 

“And Colghain?” She turned to face him, but his eyes weren’t on her anymore. Almost like they never were. “Yes?”

“Be nice to Reid. He cares about what others think more than he’d let on.”

Kit stood and blinked at him for a moment before she found herself rolling her eyes. “I thought Reid could take care of himself.”

Gideon scoffed before shaking his head, dismissing her again as he mumbled under his breath. “Trouble.”

“Jaded,” she said simply, striding out the door without another look back.

_ Did that help? Did that even help at all? _

_ Of course it did, Kody. There was an agreement in there somewhere. Stay out of each other’s way, and everything will be fine. Hotch will be happy to hear it. _

Kit walked quickly back to her desk, sliding into her seat and placing her head in her hands. She wished the day was over, but it was barely two, and she needed the next three hours to prepare her meeting for Friday. Two days to prepare wasn’t optimal, and she wondered if she’d need to stay late at her desk. They were supposed to play another set the next night, and she didn’t want to cancel on her cúpla like she had for five straight weeks after starting her position.

“Are you okay?”

She considered leaving her face in her hands and pretending she didn’t hear him, but Gideon’s words, to her great distaste, rang in her ears.

_ Be nice to Reid. He cares about what others think more than he’d let on. _

She sighed and sat up, directing her eyes to the sheepish looking doctor to her right and nodding. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. Morgan had disappeared, which she didn’t notice at first, and Elle was nowhere to be found.

“Did you talk with Gideon?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it… good?”

Kit watched his body position shift as his discomfort increased.

_ He probably thinks you’re going to snap at him, or tell him it’s none of his business. Good job, Kody. Great. You’ve given him anxiety. _

She nodded, giving him a small smile. “I guess it was,” she decided. She wasn’t sure, but that’s where she settled. “Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah. Yeah, um, sure. I just know that things have been weird and that you don’t really get along, but I told him that you know a lot of things and you’ve got a lot to add to the team. Actually-” He stopped himself suddenly, eyes lowering and hands fidgeting before he shook his head. “Sorry. I was rambling, I’m sure you have things to do.”

She watched him for a moment before she found herself shaking her head. Reid, she was learning, was largely harmless. Plus, she could use his overflowing memory to her advantage.

“Actually, how much paperwork do you have to do? I could use some help with something.”

He looked back up at her and took a second before grinning. “Oh, my paperwork is done.”

“Great,” she said, settling back into her seat and picking up her pen. “What can you tell me about physical activity in adults between the ages of twenty and sixty?”

His grin shifted into a full smile. “Tons.”

“Perfect,” she said, leaning towards him to show she was engaged and ready. “Tell me everything.”


	8. Heaven Knows How Hard I Tried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit is tired because she has to keep reminding Hotch that she isn't a part of his team. She's also tired because Garcia texted them all telling them there was a case, and to come in ASAP, at two in the morning. Good thing Kit worked a double, so she was already at the bureau, bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to go.  
> Not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She lives! In all seriousness, everything has been absolutely crazy over the last few months. Things should be settling down now (though every time I say that, something else comes along.)  
> Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos, you have no idea how much it means to me. I've loved bringing Kit to life!  
> This chapter gets us about half way through 1x15, Unfinished Business. Anyone else just not like Max Ryan at all?? Just me??
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are more than appreciated!

Kit rubbed at her eyes. Again.  _ Hard _ . It was nearly two thirty in the morning, and she was standing in the hallway in front of the BAU double doors. 

She had gotten a text at two, just as she was getting out of the shower down in the locker room.

**_Penelope Garcia:_ ** _ We have a case. Meet at the BAU ASAP. _

It had caused her to raise an eyebrow, especially at Garcia’s use of the word  _ we _ , but Kit assumed that meant that the case was medically involved. She wouldn’t be getting a message about it if she wasn’t needed. Not in the middle of the night. Not on a Saturday.

Thankfully, she had her go bag in her locker, and she could pull out one of the three outfits that fit so nicely inside the rigid black duffle to wear up to the bullpen, instead of the sweatpants and hoodie she’d anticipated wearing in the car on the way home.

There was no sign of anyone in the bullpen when she hit the glass doors, so she waited in the hallway, pacing with her arms crossed, backpack slung over her shoulders. What they were needed for at two in the morning on a Saturday (Sunday? She wasn’t sure that was fair if she hadn’t gone to bed yet) was beyond her. Didn’t serial killers work at night, and bodies show up in the morning? What could have happened to have Hotch rally the troops while they were still facing the pitch black night?

And why was she a part of those troops? The week or so since her meeting with Ramos, and then Hotch, and then Gideon had been uncomfortable to say the least. She’d played distance. She’d given her second health meeting just the day before, and it had gone exactly the way it needed too. She would do another the coming Friday, if they weren’t traveling. 

She talked with Morgan more than anyone, and with Gideon not at all. Elle and JJ and even Penelope had made small talk with her, but they knew something was different. It was easily readable in the emotions that they so valiantly tried to hold back from their faces and body language. And she played nice with Reid, who all in all wasn’t incredibly annoying, though she noticed the way he hesitated if they were walking out at the same time. She’d yelled at him twice on the metro platform, and she guessed it had made him wary of her at night all together.

Good. She didn’t need anyone closer to her than necessary. Except, of course, Morgan. But their friendship hadn’t started in the bullpen. It had started on the track.

Kit didn’t need to be a part of their team.

_ At least, that’s what you tell yourself.  _

She moved out of the way of the man polishing the floor. He seemed confused that she was even standing there, and she didn’t want to get in his way. It wasn’t his fault that she was standing there, waiting for direction or instruction. Anything but pacing back and forth with her hands glued to her backpack straps. 

It was far too early for being in the way.

The elevator opened, and out strode Hotch, Reid, Morgan, and Elle. They were talking as they came through the lobby, and Kit fell in step with them.

“So they've been here all night?” Morgan was asking, giving off both confusion and mild frustration.

Hotch was quick to respond, saying, “Apparently,” as if they weren’t all just dragged to the FBI for an unknown reason at two in the morning.

“Where else would any of us be on a Saturday night? It's not like we have lives or anything.” Elle offered, obvious sarcasm dripping off of her tongue. She was the first one to notice Kit walking with them, and she gave her a confused sort of head tilt before directing her attention to Morgan, who said, “Speak for yourself.”

Kit fell into step next to Morgan as they turned the corner towards their desks. He raised an eyebrow at her, but gave her a small smile and a clap on the shoulder as some of his annoyance seemed to slip away. “You got here quick, Lep.”

She laughed, shaking her head as the smile slipped from her face. “I’ve actually been here since six this morning.”

His eyes widened, and Elle turned to raise an eyebrow at her as their feet carried them further into the bullpen. “Why have you been here that long?”

“I worked a double. Monty’s sick, so it was me, or Ari, and they’ve been taking so many for me that I figured I’d take the hit this time.” She shrugged and nodded towards Hotch at the front of their pack, who was engaged, or feigning engagement, in whatever Reid was saying. “I guess I got more than I bargained for.”

“Isn’t the swing shift done down there at midnight?” Morgan asked, and Kit was quick to shake her head. “One. Ari came in at twelve forty-five, and I got to leave the floor at one fifteen.”

“It’s two thirty,” Elle said, “You didn’t leave?”

Kit sighed and tugged at one of her braids, shaking her head. “No. Our apartment has one bathroom, so if I wanted to shower without the risk of waking up Mont, I had to do it here. And trust me, after a double in the clinic with cadets, I want to burn my skin off.”

Reid was going a mile a minute at the front of their pack. Neither he or Hotch seemed to have noticed the three agents side-baring in the back. “Guys, we are about to meet Max Ryan, the guy responsible for catching the Boise Child Killer. Have you ever talked to him before?”

“He's pretty intense, brusque. Not much of a bedside manner,” Hotch responded.

“Sound like anyone else we know?” Elle teased as they started to set things on their desks, Kit shedding her backpack before starting to work on her jacket. 

“I heard he was forced into early retirement,” Morgan added, shedding his own jacket and addressing Hotch, who unlike the rest of them, wasn’t shedding a jacket or a bag.

“No, he chose to retire,” Hotch answered easily.

Reid threw his coat over his chair as he said, “He's written a new book on the Keystone Killer case,” before they all started quickly falling into step behind Hotch.

“He moved to Philadelphia to be closer to the crime scenes.”

Kit raised an eyebrow and made eye contact with Elle. “He moved  _ to _ Philadelphia?”

“That's retirement?”

Morgan spoke up from behind them, the caboose of their five person train. “BAU style.”

_ Note to self, Kody. If you stay the liaison for the BAU, you might want to retire close to a crime scene. _

_ Rethink your career path.  _

When they made it to the conference room, Reid’s eyes darted to the screen. There were already browsers open with different images, all of which looked like word searches, and each with a message at the top. Gideon looked up as they walked in, noting Kit with skepticism, but not distaste, before continuing to speak with who Kit assumed was Max Ryan. She’d never heard of him. She’d never heard of the Boise Child Killer. There were so many things she’d been naive to for far too long.

Reid read from the screen easily. "Who in his mind has not probed the black water? John Steinbeck, East of Eden.”

“Story of good and evil,” Gideon noted, “love and hate.”

The man standing next to Gideon had to be the Max Ryan the rest of the team was talking about. He was older, more around Gideon’s age than any of theirs, and Kit could tell just from being in the same room that he had some baggage he desperately needed to unpack. He seemed focused, but not in the calm way Hotch or Reid, or even Gideon, often gave to her. The calm Ryan held was frustrated just under the surface.

“There's been some new activity on the Keystone Killer case,” he said with no other explanation.

Kit didn’t have any idea as to who that was.

“New?” Elle asked, clearly knowing exactly who it was.

Gideon nodded. “He was in Max's lecture last night.”

“What?” Morgan admonished in clear disbelief. “He got away?”

He was standing the furthest from the screen, but the closest to Kit. She’d hung back the second they’d gotten into the room, the insecurity of her unimportance and her lack of knowledge rooting her to a spot near the door she’d become accustomed to as she worked to distance herself.

“Would we have woken you up if we caught him?” Ryan said, allowing for an uncomfortable quiet to fall over the profiling team. Kit shifted her weight, tipping her head to the side and allowing herself to watch Ryan as he turned back to the screen. She couldn’t tell if he was enjoying himself.

Obviously he was personally invested in the case, which she didn’t quite have an opinion on. In some ways, she thought the objectivity the team displayed was misplaced. She’d never been able to be completely objective in the clinic or on the ER floor, despite always trying to be, so she couldn’t fault his passion.

She just hoped it wouldn’t get in the way.

Gideon spoke into the quiet. “He handed this letter to the security guard.”

“And he included two drivers' licenses with it,” Ryan added.

“One is from his last victim.”

“Last known victim.”

“Amy Jennings, strangled in 1987.”

Gideon and Ryan were back and forth, information coming from both men in a way that mimicked alley dogs pulling back and forth on a bone. They had the same information, but in a strange turn of events, it was Gideon that was tugging towards conservatism. How incredibly refreshing.

Kit’s brain switched gears as she noticed Reid mumbling to himself, holding what looked like a word search. She couldn’t be sure, her angle wasn’t very good.

_ Maybe if you’d walk closer, you could see what was going on. _

_ Why? It isn’t like you’d be able to help anyway. _

“Do you see something?” Gideon was asking him, 

"Yeah, what is the significance of black bra and grey wool socks?"

Ryan replied easily. "That's what Amy Jennings was wearing when we found her."

As if the mental image of a dead young woman in nothing but a bra and socks was very normal, and not disturbing at all in any way. 

_ Why would someone remember that after so long? Why would that be so incredibly important? _

Morgan seemed to echo her inner thoughts. “That's a lot of detail to remember for twenty years. The Green River Killer couldn't remember where the bodies were buried, much less what they were wearing.”

“Well, some unsubs take pictures and print them themselves so they can manipulate the scene, bring it to life. That would explain the level of detail.”

_ Every day I work here is another deadbolt I put on the apartment door.  _

She let her mind wander, not giving much attention to the ideas spinning around the room. 

The woman, Carla Bromwell, had been suffocated, and Kit knew that less than a minute without oxygen could do irreversible damage to the human brain. Even if they did find these women, there wasn’t anything she could do to help them. They’d be gone before she could get to them. She wouldn’t go with the team, and she’d be going to retrieve their shared car from the parking lot in half an hour.

_ Good, they might be gone Monday, and it’s easier to be in the office alone. No one to dodge, no one to try to convince me to get closer to these people than I have to. _

She was shaken from her near-trance by JJ’s voice. The blonde had come in through the side door by the screen, dropping a file onto the table in front of Morgan, who was seated now. Kit hadn’t even noticed he’d sat down.

“I'd say good morning,” she said, carrying a cup of coffee Kit desperately wished was her own, “but, it's still dark outside.”

“Who's this?” Morgan asked, looking at the photo of a clearly dead woman with pinched eyebrows. Kit hadn’t even noticed she’d gravitated to stand right behind him, looking over his shoulder at the image.

“Carla Bromwell.” JJ turned to Gideon, not giving Morgan, or Kit, anything more before speaking. “Gideon, can you put it on the news?”

Gideon did as she asked, the screen lighting to show a reporter already in the middle of a segment.

“The Philadelphia police were notified late last night of a letter that was hand delivered to this news station. Apparently it was written by the infamous Keystone Killer, who's wanted in connection with the murders of seven women back in the late 1980's.”

_ Seven? This man killed seven women and they never caught him? _

“He also included a photograph of a woman. She appears to be dead in the photo, suffocated with a plastic bag. Now, subsequently police discovered a body in the Overbrook area, but they are not confirming that it's the woman in this picture.”

Hotch was the first one to speak, drawing eyes as he simply said, “He works fast.” 

“It's an understatement, isn't it?” Gideon said, and for maybe the first time in the six weeks Kit had worked with the man, she had to agree with him.

Hotch stood from his seat next to Morgan, moving towards the door as he said, “Meet you on the plane in thirty minutes.”

Kit found her eyebrows coming together as he said that. Did he mean everyone? He couldn’t possibly have meant her. But she wasn’t dismissed either.

Her legs moved quickly to catch up with him, needing twice as many at a more rapid rate to ever hope to catch up.

“Sir?” She called, just a little louder than socially acceptable at three in the morning.

“Colghain,” he said easily. He didn’t slow down, or stop, or even turn to face her. 

Kit moved a little more quickly, following him into his office and watching as he pulled his go bag from underneath his desk.

“Sir, why did Garcia text me for this one? I don’t see the medical necessity in this case, and if we’re traveling, Ramos was very specific in his last email that I’m not supposed to do any more traveling than necessary to meet my quota.”

Hotch stopped where he stood, hands poised above the zipper, and nothing in his face gave him away. The sincerity of his statement, however, could never be lost on her. “I told Garcia to text the team.”

Confidence. That’s what he was giving off, more for her benefit than anything else. 

It didn’t stop her from being incredibly annoyed. “We talked about this,” she said evenly. “I’m not a part of your team.”

She was blocking the door, which she’d done intentionally. Hotch wasn’t going to get out of this conversation by brushing past her and out of the office. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night and the jet was leaving in half an hour; she was getting an answer.

“I know what you said,” he replied, his hand finally moving to secure the zipper before he checked his watch. “I don’t agree. You’re another capable agent in the field, and if we do find a victim before he has the chance to suffocate her, I want you there.”

“That’s a huge “if” for me to risk getting cited on.”

“You wouldn’t be cited, it would be my call.”

“My sister’s sick.”

“Do you have your go bag? If you don’t, I’ll believe you don’t want to be a part of this.”

Kit felt her entire being still. Of course she had her go bag, it was down in her locker. She always kept it ready to go, only taking it home to swap clothes before bringing it back

“I-” she started, cutting herself off when he caught her eye directly. She couldn’t lie to Hotch. She didn’t want to. “It’s in my locker.”

He gave her a single nod. “Go get it. Downstairs in twenty.”

She let him by as he strode past her, leaving her to stand in the doorway, staring into an empty office. She could feel the bustle of Morgan, Reid, and Elle grabbing their things; jackets and go bags they had brought from home. 

A single moment she allowed herself to place her face in her hands, blowing out a heavy breath before straightening her shoulders.

* * *

“How are we supposed to work with him? Gideon, he is not even an active agent.”

Morgan’s shifting into her space woke her, leaving her blinking her eyes open and unintentionally letting out a whine. She’d fallen asleep with her contacts in, and she was definitely going to pay for it. A hand came up to rub at her now burning eyes, but thankfully, no one seemed to be looking at her. They were paying attention to Gideon.

“He's here because he knows this case better than any of us. We're leading the investigation, he's only consulting.”

Morgan didn’t seem convinced, and he didn’t move out of her space. “Anyone tell him that?” He turned his attention to their boss, who had been the only one that had moved his focus to her now groggy state. “Come on, Hotch, Kit’s a better bet on this one, and she isn’t even a profiler.”

She turned her head slowly to face him, knowing that he hadn’t meant it to be rude, but probably as a compliment. That didn’t change her words as they rolled from her exhausted tongue. “I don’t know if that’s an insult or not, Morgan, but thanks.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Come on, Lep, I was-”

“I know, I’m giving you a hard time because you woke me from my first nap in…” she didn’t think as she reached across the entire table, pulling on Hotch’s right wrist until he could see his watch. “Does that say four? Íosa Críost.” She released her grip, Hotch pulling his wrist back towards him. She hadn’t noticed that discomfort had flooded their space, though no one else seemed to notice. 

Hotch cleared his throat and nodded at Morgan. “Ryan is consulting. This was his case first, but that doesn’t mean that he’s the one leading. We are. It’ll be fine.”

Kit raised an eyebrow, but watched as Morgan relented, moving back out of her space and into his own seat. He wasn’t satisfied, that much was obvious to her, and she knew that there was a hostility that wasn’t going to fade.

She waited for the others to disperse a bit, leaving just Morgan next to her and Gideon across. She wasn’t sure exactly where she and Gideon stood. The last they’d spoken to one another was slightly confrontational, but had ended in a way that made Kit believe they were on some sort of sure footing. If they stayed out of each other’s way, no one would have to argue.

“Do you know how much time there is until we land?” She asked Morgan quietly, keeping her gaze from Gideon as he read through the file in front of him again.

Morgan shrugged. “Fifteen minutes? Maybe less. Did you really work a double?”

She nodded, sighing and physically stopping herself from rubbing at her burning eyes. “Yeah. My shift from eight to five, and then Monty’s from five to one.”

“How many hours is that? Fourteen?”

“Sixteen.”

Gideon’s voice surprised her, causing her head to snap in his direction. It was quiet for a moment before Kit nodded. “Yeah. Sixteen. And I was at the track this morning by six. My PFT is coming up.”

“Huh,” Morgan said. “You might have enough field hours to cover some of the sections, depending on when it is.”

“Monty, Ari, and I are all scheduled for April sixth.”

“The nurses in the clinic take Physical Fitness Tests?” Gideon asked in a voice that sounded both uninterested and curious in the same moment. Almost as if he cared about the answer, but not for the girl about to give it.

Regardless, she nodded. Talking was keeping her awake, and she needed to have her head in the game. Hotch had made her come, so she was going to be helpful. And conscious.

“Yeah, we all have the Special Agent rank, we just don’t use the title. "Nurse" is less intimidating to the cadets. Rather they see us as there to help rather than thinking we’re  _ another _ supervisor they need to impress.”

He thought for a moment before nodding and turning back to the file in front of him. Nothing in his demeanor changed, but that didn't surprise her.

"So, what you're saying," Morgan teased, bringing her back to the jet, "is that you need to get your run time down."

She chuckled. "Right after you get this bastard."

"After  _ we _ get this bastard," he said, emphasizing a little too hard on the 'we' for him to be subtle. Not that he was trying to be.

They'd had a few conversations at the track about the whole thing, but she was holding her ground. 

_ Two of them are trying to convince you, Kody. _ Monty’s voice teased in her ear.  _ Maybe you'd reconsider. _

* * *

It didn’t take long for Kit to find herself standing to the side, listening as JJ answered questions from the press. The poise and grace she held while batting questions away without so much as a blink was something Kit knew she would never be able to do. If they put her in front of those schmucks, she’d lose her temper in an instant.

“We are aware of the media reports-” JJ was saying before she got cut off.

“Is it the Keystone Killer?”

“-However,” she continued, ”we cannot confirm at this time. The FBI will be making a formal statement later on today.”

“We received more information from the murderer than the police. What's going on?” A different reporter, a man, called at her, before the same woman from before said, “We have the right to the truth.”

A flash of something that felt suspiciously close to annoyance flooded off of JJ before she said in a hard, impassive voice, “The Philadelphia police have to finish investigating this crime scene before we can make a statement. All of your questions will be answered at that time, so please be patient. That's all I can say.”

She walked away from the mob of reporters with Kit following at her heels. Both women were far too tired to be standing outside a crime scene, and JJ let her question drop in Kit’s lap.

“Aren’t you exhausted?”

It wasn’t probing, but genuinely curious. JJ had never been anything but nice to her.

“Sure, but I got a few minutes on the plane, and I nodded off a bit in the car,” Kit explained, fighting the urge to fiddle with her hands or her hair or her pants. The reporters hadn’t all left yet, and the last thing she needed was for them to run a story about a neurotic FBI agent. “I’m good.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

JJ shook her head, giving a sympathetic grin. “Because you don’t have to be. I’m tired, and I got at least four hours before Garcia’s text came through.

Kit shrugged. “I used to work ER shifts. Sometimes overnight. I’ve done a few 24 hour shifts in the trauma unit when I was nineteen…” She trailed off and waved her hand vaguely, becoming aware that she was sharing too much. JJ was on Hotch’s team, and she wasn’t. She didn’t actually care what Kit came from or what her past looked like. "Anyway, uh, what do you think of Ryan?”

“I think he’s going to get in the way," she answered smoothly, clearly letting whatever awkward tension Kit had fed into the atmosphere dissipate. 

“Me too," Kit agreed, unsure of how much she should let on that she didn't think Max Ryan was going to be incredibly happy with letting the BAU take the lead. She was fully ready to discuss this when JJ took her bait.

“Hotch told me what you said."

JJ changed the subject without so much as a shift in posture, and Kit was so shocked she choked on the breath she was taking, coughing a few times into the crook of her arm.

“What?” She managed after a moment.

“About the whole, not-being-a-part-of-the-team thing.”

Kit shook her head, fighting not to roll her eyes.

_Of course. Derek knew because you told him but everyone must know now._ _Does she think you’re an idiot?_

Before she could respond, not that she knew how, JJ was speaking again. “He wanted me to tell you about when I first joined the team at the end of September.” 

Kit felt her eyebrows draw together. “September?”

“That’s right,” JJ said, nodding as if her admission wasn’t incredibly jarring. “Started as the liaison for the BAU almost five months ago.”

“I thought you’d been here way longer than that,” Kit admitted. 

JJ simply shook her head, looking Kit directly in the eye. “When I started, I got a lot of pushback from the com department. They wanted me to distance myself,” she shrugged. “Which is what I heard that the health department is doing to you.”

Kit’s arms went to cross over her chest. “Section Chief Ramos reminded me that I’m basically on loan. I’m a part of the health team, liaising between them and the BAU. My job is to be a nurse before anything else.”

The look JJ was giving her wasn’t pity, like she was expecting, but instead understanding.

“I get that. And they told me the same thing. That I was getting too close and I needed to be objective. They said that I was a part of the communications team, and that I wasn’t a profiler. I’m qualified to go in the field, but I was discouraged from considering it.”

She stopped for a second before shaking her head. “But staying objective doesn’t do anything for you here. I’m sure you’re already realizing that.”

“If I don’t, I’m going to get myself in trouble with Ramos,” Kit said, and she hated the way her voice seemed to shake just slightly.

_ I’m just tired, that’s all. _

_ That’s a load of bullshit, and you know it. _

“Then push back.”

Kit looked into JJ’s clear eyes, and she felt the overwhelming conviction that was intended in the blonde's next words. 

“Don’t fold. We like you.”

* * *

She stood a full ten paces away from the rest of the team, hands trembling slightly as she watched the woman, a woman she didn’t know and never would, be loaded into a stretcher.

A woman whose naked body she’d checked over while waiting for EMS. She’d examined the bruising on her wrists and the adhesive burns that would be left from the tape over her mouth. The plastic wrap around her torso. She was dehydrated and traumatized but  _ alive _ . So very, incredibly alive. 

It had struck her all at once as the all male EMTs took over and the woman cried out for Kit not to leave her that they hadn’t even been looking for her. They’d been searching Scott Harbin’s house with the thought that he may be the Keystone Killer. Someone who breaks into women’s houses and strangles them with a plastic bag after blitzing them hard enough to knock them unconscious.

But this woman? She was found bound and shoved under a bed. She was being held against her will.

They hadn’t been looking for her. No one was.

A wave of nausea rushed over her as she thought about what the last six weeks or so had brought her. She’d known of the horrors of the world, but being with the BAU had brought her face to face with, most notably; a child predator, a man that literally poisoned a swath of random people  _ and _ himself, and now a man who literally kidnapped a woman and held her in his home  _ so well _ that no one was looking for her. For  _ fun _ .

Scott Harbin disgusted her in a way that far surpassed her understanding. He hadn’t seemed at all remorseful about them finding the woman,  _ Claudia _ was her name, tied up under his bed. He’d almost seemed like he thought the whole thing was one big joke, and a weight the size of her fist settled at the pit of her stomach when she realized exactly what that meant about Harbin  _ and _ the Keystone Killer; they were taking women however they wanted and killing them just because they felt like it. 

Sure, they weren’t right. They weren’t wired like the men she knew around her. They had something wrong with them, be it medical or circumstantial. But that didn’t change how she felt standing out on the lawn of Scott Harbin’s house.

The thing that finally pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts was a strong hand on her shoulder. She jumped, turning sharply to look at her attacker before realizing that it was just Hotch.

“They said the victim is going to be fine.”

She blinked up at him for a moment. His face was impossible to read. “Claudia.”

His eyebrows drew together as he looked down to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry?”

“Her name is Claudia. She told me when the EMTs showed up and she asked me to stay anyway.” Her voice was shaking. “No one was looking for her, were they?”

He was silent a moment before he answered with such honesty it made her want to cry. “I don’t know.”

“We weren’t.”

“We’re working the case we were assigned.”

She let out a chuckle that sounded far from sincere. “Right. Meanwhile, Claudia was being held against her will by a literal psychopath.”

She took a breath and shoved her hands in the pockets of her slacks. "There are way more of these men out there than we know about, aren't there?"

She didn’t want an answer, but she had to ask. She had to know, even so long after she’d been thrown into a world of murderers, what she was really getting herself into.

Hotch flooded the air with reluctance, but Kit would have never been able to pick it off his face. "More than you'd think,” he said, and his voice had a sad quality she’d never heard. 

She took another breath and looked away from him, eyes training on Claudia’s ambulance as it drove away, lights on, towards the hospital.

_ All you can do is try, Kody. All you can do is try. _


End file.
